Christmas Magic
by Oakmoss
Summary: This is a series of short scenes leading up to christmas. Our favourite potions master does not like Christmas. Hermione, well, of course she does, and she intends to reel him in. Severus is snarky, Hermione cheeky. All Snape's POV, and a lot of funnies interlaced with a bit of serious conflict.
1. Chapter 1: Thursday morning

AN: I hope to have this finished before Christmas and welcome all feedback.

**Chapter 1: Thursday morning  
**

Severus Snape had heard her excited squeal before he had even opened the door into the teacher's lounge but his foul mood was aggravated when he saw her standing in front of the fireplace, clapping her hands like she was a damn seal.

"Isn't it gorgeous, Minerva?" she cooed at the 9 foot pine tree in the centre of the room. Oh bloody hell.

"I went to pick it out with Hagrid yesterday."

He rolled his eyes at her embodiment of a hyperactive toddler, with her ridiculous bouncing up and down and closed the door with an irritated slam. The two prattling women flinched at the harsh interruption of their conversation and fell silent when they recognised him. All other heads in the room were turned towards him as well. They were staring, everyone always stared unless they cowered. He knew which he preferred.

"Morning," he grumbled under his breath to no one in particular and strode to his usual spot, the impressive armchair in the back corner. Chattering resumed as he picked the latest copy of The Practical Potioneer out of his pocket and sank down in the black leather. He pretended not to catch snippets of the conversations going on.

"...in a right mood..."

"...wonder what got his knickers in a twist?"

"Git."

He wondered when his colleagues would expand their vocabulary as he turned his attention to the publication in his hands, but reconsidered and looked up again when he heard her excited pitch.

"It does need to air for a day or so, so it can relax and be happy with its spot in the room, before I decorate it."

"Relax, Miss Granger?"

"Hermione."

"Miss Granger, that tree was well and truly dead the moment you had its roots chopped off. It has very little _relaxing_ or _being happy_ left in it. Why you continue to spew such nonsensical personifications is beyond me. Perhaps you have spent too much time with Mr. Longbottom."

"Shut up, Severus."

"That's professor Snape to you."

"Yes, dear."

She turned around and implored McGonagall to smell the tree. He snorted. She ignored him.


	2. Chapter 2: Thursday evening

AN: Oh, I am having so much fun writing these! I've got 6 episodes of this story finished at this point and I'm thinking the story ought to draw to a close in 10? Something like that. I'll see where it takes me. As always, reviews are much appreciated.

**Chapter 2: Thursday evening  
**

He was picking at his dinner with a distinct air of disapproval. Cauliflower cheese indeed.

"I haven't quite decided whether I will use white lights or coloured ones. I do like the simplicity and warmth of plain white but colour is just so much more exciting and exuberant, isn't it? It reminds me of professor Dumbledore, actually."

Minerva McGonagall chuckled and Severus looked up from his plate to glare at the chipper Arithmancy apprentice to his right. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and her smile reached her eyes. When she caught him looking at her, her smile widened even more. He didn't think that would've been possible.

"Which do you prefer, Severus? White lights or coloured?"

" Again, while others may be accepting of such familiarity from you, Miss Granger, I am not. Professor Snape, if you please. And I'm sure I don't care, Miss Granger."

"Hermione."

"Miss Granger, I find your childish Christmas frenzy utterly contemptible. I do not enjoy the decking of the halls and I do not wish to advise you on it. Certainly I do not care to be consulted on the choice of one atrocious flashing abomination in favour of another."

"There will be no Christmas decorations in your quarters then?"

"No."

"Oh. I assumed the potions classroom always remained bare because of the potential danger if holly or pine needles were to fall into a cauldron unexpectedly. But you mean to say there are no trees or baubles to be found anywhere in the dungeons?"

"Indeed. The only exception being the Slytherin common room."

"Why is that?"

" One must consider the children, apparently," he sneered with an angry glare at the headmistress. "It seems even my Slytherins are not above celebrating the _good tidings_ by bringing obnoxious shrubbery indoors."

"Of course. Santa won't come if there's no tree, Severus."

"Professor Snape. And do stop your infantile drivelling."

"Yes, dear."

She turned her attention back to the headmistress but not before cheekily grinning at him. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and feigned interest in the cauliflower mush on his plate.


	3. Chapter 3: Friday morning

AN: I didn't think I could have so much fun writing. This Severus is cracking me up and I don't think I'll be able to wrap this up in 10 chapters. I'll post several updates a day so as to still have it ready by Christmas. I'm at Chapter 9 already. Also, reviews yay!

**Chapter 3: Friday morning  
**

When he walked into the staff lounge the next day, he had a pain relief potion in his pocket. Let it not be said that he wasn't prepared for the onslaught of kitsch that Miss Granger would undoubtedly have donned the blasted tree with. She did say the lights reminded her of Dumbledore. He imagined gaudy strings of bushy tinsel and garishly distasteful baubles if Albus ruddy Dumbledore was to be the inspiration for it.

To say he was surprised when he laid eyes on the evergreen, would be an understatement. For once, the room seemed delightfully vacant of colleagues and so he approached the pine cautiously and let his eyes roam over it. It was decorated with small figurines in white glass with gilded details. The tree was lit, but not by the strings of headache-inducing fluorescent lights that he had been expecting. In its stead, thin white candles were clipped onto the edges of the branches. This tree was positively demure, he considered. And unexpectedly classy.

"Busted!" chirped the sprightly voice of Hermione Granger from behind him and he stepped back as if he'd been caught with his pants down. He just could not catch a break, could he?

"Do you like it?"

"I do not like Christmas ergo I do not like Christmas trees, Miss Granger."

"Hermione. But you approve?"

"It is the least offensive tree in the castle."

"Thank you, Severus," she beamed at him.

"Professor Snape. Candles, Miss Granger?"

"Hermione. I thought perhaps it was time for something more elegant and traditional. Don't worry, it's safe. I have charmed the branches to be fireproof and the candles are in a stasis of sorts."

"But still they flicker?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Magic," she said and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Trust her not to give a straightforward answer. He rolled his eyes and strode over to his spot in the back. He settled and retrieved his book from his pocket.

"You do like it then, Severus?"

"Professor Snape. Your tree is tolerable. Satisfied?"

"Yes, dear."

She glided away to the other end of the lounge to chat with Vector. He was certain he felt her eyes on him and when he dared to look up from his text, she granted him a wide genuine smile.


	4. Chapter 4: Saturday afternoon

AN: things are starting to get interesting. Severus tries to embarras our Hermione. Poor defenseless girl. Muhahahahaha! Reviews, you say? Yes please!

**Chapter 4: Saturday afternoon**

The staff meeting was predictably tedious. The headmistress was going on about the rota for hall patrols. For lack of anything else worth paying attention to, he let his eyes wander the room. Flitwick was looking distinctly disinterested and twirling his wand like a baton. Sinistra and Babbling seemed to actually be paying attention. Merlin those two were pathetic. Trelawny was staring gormlessly into the fire. Nothing surprising there. Hooch, Sprout and Pomfrey were exchanging knowing glances although at this point he wasn't aware what exactly it was that they _knew_. His eyes followed the flying instructor's. Ah. Granger and Longbottom sat off to the side of the room, whispering about something. They looked awfully cosy and he just couldn't resist.

"Minerva, I'm sure Miss Granger has something to add to that."

"Oh, lovely. Yes, Hermione?"

"Oh, um, ah- no, never mind, it doesn't matter," she said uncomfortably.

"No need for modesty now. We do all _so_ enjoy your insightful opinions. You are normally so eager to thrust them upon us."

"Actually, Severus, I wouldn't dream of suggesting anything before seeking your _experienced_ advice first. You must have an established routine after _so many years_. I couldn't ignore your _mature expertise_ when I'm so green still."

She wasn't! She wasn't calling him old, was she? Flitwick's suppressed snicker told him that yes, she was in fact. He was so appalled he forgot to admonish her for neglecting to use the proper epithet.

"Miss Granger!"

"Hermione."

She smiled sweetly at him. He just glared back at her and waved his hand at the headmistress.

"Carry on."

"Very well, before we close the meeting, I don't think I need to remind anyone that the Yule Ball will be upon us Saturday next. You will all be required to attend. No exceptions."

All eyes on him again. He kept his face blank and the meeting finally, mercifully, came to a close. As he made his escape to his dungeons, he heard her melodious tones wanting something from him.

"Severus, you will come to the ball, won't you?"

"It appears I have no say in the matter. Yes, I will attend."

"Lovely. You should wear your black robes," she chuckled.

"As you've made abundantly clear, Miss Granger, I am too much of a geriatric to consider your quip amusing or even original. At my age, I've heard it all before. You will have to work harder on your approximation of wit. Go away and leave an old man be."

"Yes, dear."

She skipped past him down the hall -that infernal _skipping_!- then paused and looked back at him over her shoulder with a glowing smile on her face.


	5. Chapter 5: Sunday morning

AN: She's getting to him and he knows it. Teehee. I did actually go a whole other way with this chapter, but I wasn't happy with it. So now that I've redone it, I'm going to have to do the same with the follow-up chapters or none of it will make sense anymore. I should still manage to update every day. Maybe twice if you encourage me with revieeeeeews. *squeal*

**Chapter 5 :Sunday morning**

The next time he saw her was in the library. Something was different about her. She was wearing the ugliest jumper he'd ever seen. White with red reindeer in a fair isle pattern. Maybe it was the jeans. He had to admit, with her facing the shelves, her pert bottom hugged by the blue denim was a sight for sore eyes. Holy crap, he did not just think that! Quickly he pushed past her and picked out the books he wanted, then settled at a desk with them. She picked up book after book, flicked through each one, sighed deeply and put them back. It went on for ages until finally he snapped and slammed his book down.

"Alright, that is it! Why aren't you asking me for help?"

"You don't like it when I ask you questions. Are you offering to help?"

"I like it even less when you're aggravating me when I'm trying to work. Yes, it appears I am offering to help. What is it you are looking for, Miss Granger?"

"Hermione. I- um- well, you've probably noticed already-"

"Quit traipsing around the subject, girl. Spit it out."

"I may have overdosed on Sleekeazy."

He looked at her. Oh. Her normally bushy mane clung to her face like a wet mop. How had he missed that? Too busy staring at her arse, that's how.

"You- why- no never mind. How much did you use?"

"A vial..." she stammered.

"A- bloody hell Granger! A WHOLE VIAL?"

"I tried to wash it out but-"

"It's a potion! You can't WASH IT OUT. Have you swapped brains with Longbottom?"

"Stop shouting at me! You're not helping!"

"I DON'T SHOUT GRANGER!

"Are you going to help me fix this or not?"

"Fine! Come to my lab tonight."

"Tonight? But..."

"What? I need to look into it first."

"I have a date this afternoon."

"Wear a hat!"

He watched her storm off. She hadn't called him dear. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed. She had a date. He knew that shouldn't bother him but it did.


	6. Chapter 6: Sunday evening

AN: Oh Severus, you fool. She's pulling him in, there's no two ways about it. Before long I'll have him carol singing. Ok, maybe not.

**Chapter 6: Sunday evening**

She was in his lab, wearing a bobble hat. He didn't point it out but slammed a recipe onto the table.

"I'll brew. You prepare the ingredients."

"Fine. No need to be such an ass about it."

They worked in silence. She handed him sliced, crushed and ground items with impeccable timing. He wanted to wring her neck for it. This would be so much easier if he could just sneer at her for being an incompetent twit. Finally he lowered the heat on the cauldron and pulled away from the table.

"It has to simmer."

"For 95 minutes."

"Indeed."

"So what do we do?" she asked, looking uncomfortable.

"I have to mark those," he pointed to a pile of parchments.

"What are they?"

"Essays. First year Hufflepuff on bezoars."

"Oh. Any good?"

"Of course not. It is a medical marvel I haven't gone grey yet."

"Do you want a hand?"

He released an exasperated sigh.

"If you've nothing better to do, then by all means, Miss Granger, _knock yourself out_."

They sat opposite each other reading the essays. First neither would say a word, but then she read out a particularly stupid statement from Mr. Carmichael's paper. He raised his eyebrows and said nothing. When she did it a second time and suggested that if Mr. Abernathy had an ounce of sense, he'd be dangerous , he chuckled. The third time he told her to stop because he lost IQ points with every sentence she read out. She wrote that in the margin of Miss Blenkinsop's essay in scathing red ink. Yes, marking was decidedly less dreary when she was helping him do it.

"That was the last one. Tell me, were my essays ever as deplorable as that?"

"Yours, Miss Granger, were uninspired and belligerent, not to mention completely bereft of any sense of criticism. But credit where it's due: you did have an adequate grasp on the basic principles of grammar and spelling which at least made for an easier read than this junk."

"Why Severus, is that a compliment?"

"Get your vial ready, your potion is about done."

"Yes dear."

He smiled to himself but if anyone asked him about it, he would deny it.


	7. Chapter 7: Monday evening

AN: Aww, all better. They're cute when they banter, aren't they? Better prepare for more adorable Severus. Also, reviews. Feed me, Seymour!

**Chapter 7: Monday evening**

He walked into the Great hall and was smugly satisfied to see her hair back to normal. He slid into his chair next to her and glanced at the dishes. Oh, treacle tart. That was a rare treat.

"Hello Severus. The potion worked," she beamed happily.

"Apparently so. I never did ask about your date, Miss Granger."

"Hermione. And believe me, it's better if you don't."

"That bad?"

"Worse. He liked the hat. He also expressed that he liked the hat rack."

"Circe."

"Yes, exactly. Last time I let Ginny set me up on a blind date. Her taste in men is perfectly horrid."

He said nothing but thought of Potter and he knew she could see it in his smirk.

"Severus!"

He just grinned and she shook her head. Before either of them could say anything further, the headmistress demanded their attention.

"Treacle tart for pudding tonight, Severus. Your favourite, I believe?"

"It is endurable. An improvement on the cauldron cake we so often get, to be sure."

Minerva smiled and enquired with Miss Granger about her plans for tomorrow.

"I heard Septima has agreed to let you have the day off?"

"That's right. I'm off to London tomorrow. I need a dress for the ball, naturally and then there's Christmas shopping to be done. Santa can only do so much, we must tend to the rest."

"Santa again? Your obsession with the man is unsettling, Miss Granger."

"Hermione. And you would rather see me obsess over a different man, Severus?"

She winked at him. She winked! He felt an unidentified tingle run up his spine.

"I promised Hagrid I'd teach him how to make mince pies. Have my pudding, if you like."

With this she rose from her chair and slid the dessert plate over to him. He looked at the treacle delight, then at her with raised eyebrows.

"Honestly, you're welcome to it, I'm not a fan."

"Very well. Now don't keep our groundskeeper waiting. Off you pop."

"Yes, dear."

The clickity clacking of her heels on the paving of the great hall's floor no longer irritated him, the stares from his colleagues did.


	8. Chapter 8: Tuesday night

AN: Hermione has been on a trip to London and returns in a bit of a state. Severus to the rescue! This scene is hilarious, if I do say so myself. The next one's even better. Stay tuned, lol. Pivotal points in the relationship and all that.

Please do leave reviews. They make me tingle with happiness. Also, I would like your input. I have a massive row written out, but am doubtful as to whether I want to work it into the story. Would it fit?

**Chapter 8: Tuesday night**

It was nearly midnight and he was on the prowl. His sleeping pattern was irregular at best and he did so enjoy catching Gryffindors out after hours. He was just coming down from the disappointingly empty Astronomy tower when he nearly bumped into her as she snuck up the stairs.

"Have you finally found your way back to us, Miss Granger?"

"Oh Merlin, you startled me."

"Indeed. You realise you needn't sneak around? I cannot take house points from you. There is no curfew for apprentices."

"Right. Forgot about that."

She giggled and leaned against the wall. He smelled alcohol on her and gave her a scrutinous once-over. Her cheeks flushed, the tips of her nose and ears red, her hair an even bigger mess than usual. She looked a little dishevelled actually. Her speech was slower and slurred.

"Miss Granger, are you drunk?"

" 'Mione. I'm not. Well. Maybe a little. You see, Ronny and Har -oops - Harry and Ron took me to this bar in Camden. Three words, Sevy: artisanal mulled mead. Delish."

She'd called him Sevy. He wasn't sure when he'd stopped correcting her when she called him Severus, but Sevy? Inexcusable! Then again, being sloshed qualified as extenuating circumstances.

"Can I ask... Where exactly are you going?"

"To bed."

"And your room is in Gryffindor tower?"

"Yessss..."

"You're going the wrong way then. This is the Astronomy tower."

"Oh. So it is."

She bit her lip. Merlin, she looked... oh gods, sexy? Was he really thinking that? Apparently he was. She hadn't moved yet but her eyes kept darting up the stairs. It appeared she had no clue where she was going anymore. Time to be a gentleman, then. He sighed, resigned himself to the task at hand and took her elbow to guide her down the stairs.

"This way, Miss Granger."

"Are you taking me to bed? Because if you are, I really do think you ought to call me Hermione."

"Come along, Miss Granger," he ignored her flirtatious behaviour.

"Yes, dear."

She smiled brightly, tucked her arm under his and leaned her head on his shoulder as he escorted her back to her room. When he'd put her to bed and had closed her door, Minerva came down the hall, doing her rounds. She raised an eyebrow and bid him goodnight. Circe, he would never hear the end of this.


	9. Chapter 9: Wednesday morning

AN: Somehow I don't think Hermione would've minded if he had stayed the night. Teehee. I don't think Severus is the kind of man to take advantage of lowered inhibitions though.

Your reviews are lovely. Thank you so much! I'm thinking the row is going to be cut. I have other directions to take this story.

**Chapter 9: Wednesday morning**

She was holding her head with both hands and refused to open her eyes as he sat down next to her.

"Good morning, Miss Granger."

"Shhhhhh."

He chuckled and helped himself to a spoonful of scrambled egg and two rashers of bacon.

"Are you not hungry, Miss Granger?"

"Shut up. Please just shut up. And do it quietly."

He ate his breakfast in silence but every clatter of his fork made her wince. Finally he relented, reached into his pocket and handed her the vial of Hangover Potion. Her eyes were full of questions.

"A cure for what ails you. How bad is it?"

"Even my hair hurts. I'm never having mulled mead again. Ever. Lesson learnt."

"I imagine so, Miss Granger. Go on, all in one gulp. Better?"

"Hrm. My head is still sore and my mouth is really dry but at least the world isn't spinning anymore."

"Give the potion a few minutes. And have some water. It helps with the dehydration."

She filled a goblet and sipped it slowly. As her head cleared further, she blinked fervently.

"Oh gods. Severus, did you put me to bed last night?" she groaned.

"I did. I couldn't risk you falling off the Astronomy tower, where you insisted on going. It would look very bad on my track record if yet another person tumbled down that tower with me in the vicinity."

She gasped and her mouth fell open. He was smirking.

"That's some bleak humour right there, Severus Snape."

"Bleak, why yes, that does appear to be an apt description of me, Miss Granger."

"Hermione."

"So you keep saying."

"Well then? Is it really that hard for you to call me Hermione? You took my socks off and tucked me into bed but you can't use my given name?"

"Very well then. Hermione. But if you ever call me Sevy again, I shall hex you into next week."

Her eyes narrowed as she dug up the events of last night and she paled.

"Shite. I really was three sheets to the wind."

"That you were. Finish your water. And please, language, Granger!"

"Yes, dear."

Minerva was smiling at him, her eyes twinkling. Was that a prerequisite for the position of headmaster? He was positive his eyes had not twinkled once in his year in the office, but back then the circumstances had been less than ideal to induce twinkling... He willed her to say something, but she didn't.


	10. Chapter 10: Wednesday afternoon

AN: Aww, how sweet was that? He made it better! This chapter sees Hermione making some very pointed remarks about Severus's character and Severus regressing. Sad times.

And for those who spotted it, yes I did just rewrite the whole chapter in the past hour. Hush now. I wasn't happy with it. xD

Let me know what you think. I still have so much love for reviewers. It warms the cockles of my heart, truly!

**Chapter 10:Wednesday afternoon**

He'd set the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff OWL class to work on a Rano potion with nettle root. In the corner of his eye he caught Eleanor Vondel about to add sliced Deathcap to her cauldron.

"STOP!" he called.

All hands instantly stilled. He was pleased at the class's prompt response. He had them well trained.

"Chopped, Miss Vondel, not sliced. We wish to cure the symptoms, not prolong them."

"Yes, professor. Sorry, professor."

An hour and a half later 16 vials were standing on his desk, all neatly labelled. He picked up Eleanor Vondel's. The colour was spot on, the consistency acceptable.

"Satisfactory, Miss Vondel. I expect you to learn from your mistakes and it appears that you have."

Then he spotted the Arithmancy apprentice leaning in the doorframe, arms crossed and grinning.

"Miss Granger?" he questioned.

He would not be seen to call her Hermione with the students present. Never that.

"Please, finish. I don't think I've ever heard you give praise like that. I'm quite enjoying the show."

"12 inches on other variations of the Rano potion for next week. Dismissed," he wrapped up.

Before long the students had slipped out. Her eyes roamed the bare room.

"You really should decorate in here."

"I think I've been more than clear on my feelings towards your yuletide unrest. I will have no part in it."

"Some people might say you're just a grumpy old codger. Personally, I think you're scared Santa might overlook you. Perhaps you haven't been awfully nice this year and now you're worried so you're pretending it doesn't matter either way. I think, Severus, that that grumpy old codger is just a mask for a very insecure little boy."

"Miss Granger! That's preposterous. How dare you? How dare you presume that you know me at all? You, Miss granger, are still an insufferable chit and I shall not stand here and be insulted by your insinuations. Did you come down here just to get on my wick or was there an _acceptable_ reason you wanted to speak to me?"

"Hermione. I believe we agreed on that. And point taken, Severus; I don't know you at all. For a moment, I assumed there might be a _person_ inside that shell but unfortunately you are still nothing more than a greasy git. I did have a message to relay to you, but now I'm not sure I want to."

"Your childish bullheadedness, Hermione," he emphasized her name. "is rather unbecoming."

"Fine. Molly says she's invited you for Christmas but you haven't replied. She wanted me to enquire about your plans."

"I shall be celebrating at Old Ogden's oubliette," he alliterated.

"Is that Snapish for drinking yourself into oblivion? Charming," she said sarcastically, "but not unexpected. Why your presence is desirable to anyone is something I can't get my head around right now, but if you change your mind, the Weasleys would be happy to have you, I'm sure."

"I'm sure," he muttered disingenuously and silently vowed not to attend the merry gathering of the Order of the Phoenix. "If there is nothing else?" he suggested, gesturing to the door.

"Yes, dear." With a frown on her face she left.


	11. Chapter 11: Wednesday evening

AN: Argh, plotholes. Kill them with fire! Right, got that off my chest. There is a lot of rewriting going on still. I'mthinking perhaps next time I ought to finish the whole thing before I think about uploading anything, but there we go, it is what it is. Shan't happen again and I'll work with what is already online, not to worry.

Btw, reviewers, you're a lovely lot. Honest.

**Chapter 11: Wednesday evening**

He had been like a bear with a sore head all day and his Slytherins had suffered for it. When a small row had erupted in the common room of his house, something he normally would handle with a scowl and perhaps a berating speech, he had dished out seven detentions with Filch. Seven! And that had been nothing compared to the seething rage he felt when he'd left the common rooms and seen the dungeon's hallways. With a point me he located her. Staff room. He marched into the lounge, his brow furrowed deeply and his eyes dark.

"GRANGER?" he bellowed.

"How can I help you, Severus?" her calm voice came from behind a book.

Her gentle tones did nothing to temper his fuming anger and he grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her out of the room.

"Severus, you're hurting her!"

"Where are you taking her?"

"Let her go!"

He dragged her all the way down to his dungeons, colleagues trooping behind them, trying to keep up with his fast strides.

"What is this?" he demanded.

"Some Christmas cheer." Her composed answer only infuriated him further.

"HOW DARE YOU?"

"Well, you weren't going to do it!"

"Did I not make it clear to you that I did not _want_ any of this?"

"Boo fucking hoo. It's Christmas, Severus. People decorate!"

"Not I!"

"And why the hell not? Because you're above it all? Because Christmas is just not important enough? You're pathetic. Anyone else would be grateful that I managed to bring some happiness to these sad little dungeons of yours, but not Severus Snape. No, professor Snape gets his tender feelings hurt when someone tries to do something _nice_ for him. No wonder no one likes you. You're a disgrace!"

Her words cut and bruised, hacked and slashed. The worst of it was when she called him professor Snape. It felt like he'd been stabbed in the chest. It felt worse than any cruciatus he'd been put through. He had no fire in him to repartee, no desire to crush her as she had crushed him.

She flicked her wand and the decorations came crashing down. The floor was covered in wreaths, bells, holly, mistletoe, baubles, lights, tinsel and fake snow. He watched it in stunned silence.

"There, all gone. You should be bloody thrilled now! You can go back to your lonely excuse for a life, I assure you I won't bother you ever again, you miserable bastard!" she shouted. Then she turned her back and hurried off, leaving him and the audience that had gathered aghast.

"Get this mess cleaned up, Severus," ordered Minerva coolly before ushering the staff and students away.

"Yes, dear," he muttered.


	12. Chapter 12: Wednesday night

AN: I spent a lot of today tending to real life but I've been working on this chapter for a few hours, starting over again and again. I think I've got it where I want it now. Thank god the next few chapters are pretty much ready to go. Pfew. There is a frank talk and some eye-opening in this one.

**Chapter 12: Wednesday night**

After the clean-up, which had been rather cathartic actually since he got to vanish and blow up a load of Christmas tat, he felt calmer but not quite himself. The fight had made him feel... well, it had made him feel. He wasn't good with feelings and it unsettled him to know that she'd managed to instil such profound ones in him. He checked the time. Just past curfew. He might as well catch some students out of bed. That always seemed to do him a world of good. The forbidden third floor corridor would do nicely. Forbidden seemed to just mean alluring to Gryffindors and he had good hopes of running into one. And he did but it wasn't a student. Instead he found Minerva McGonagall.

"Severus. All done in the dungeons?"

"Obviously."

The elder witch nodded and gave him a long and intense look.

"Well?" he asked. "Aren't you going to say something?"

"What would you have me say?"

"I'm not going to give you ideas, if that's what you're suggesting but this silent judgement thing that you are doing is unnerving."

She chuckled and patted his arm in a motherly fashion.

"Nightcap, Severus? I do believe we need to talk. As friends. I'd like to think we're friends now."

"Perhaps... perhaps that might be agreeable," he consented and held out an arm for the headmistress to take. Up the falcon staircase they went and with a glass of brandy for him and sherry for her, she gave him another one of those looks before asking the question that stunned him into complete silence for several minutes.

"Why won't you let yourself like her?"

Minerva waited for him to form a stammered reply, taking occasional sips of the sherry in her hand.

"I... I don't- I don't like her. She drives me stark raving mad," he sputtered.

"Yes, I was there for your little shouting match. I think it rather proves my point, don't you?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Oh Severus, you really don't know?"

He just shook his head. Why did he always feel like a child when he was talking to Minerva?

"When was the last time you raised your voice at someone?"

He never did. Ever. He didn't reply, but she seemed to read the answer on his face nonetheless.

"Exactly. What do you do to the staff Christmas tree? Every year, without fail, the day it is put up?"

Oh. He incendio'd it. And he did it again the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that.

"Quite," she agreed. "And when was the last time you let someone brew with you, dear?"

"Don't call me dear!"

She smiled. He downed the brandy in one swig. This was bad. So very bad.

"So the question remains, Severus, why won't you let yourself like her? She likes you."

"She doesn't. You heard her. No one likes me."

"Sometimes in anger, things are said just to hurt the other."

"She seemed to mean it."

"She did. She might for a while. But that doesn't make it true. Well then, I think I've given you plenty of food for thought and seeing as both our glasses are empty... Good night, Severus."


	13. Chapter 13: Thursday morning

AN: Oh these two. Such fiery characters, both of them.

Keep the reviews coming, loves, they halp so much and they're a massive encouragement. Every time I see a new one it brings a smile to my face.

**Chapter 13: Thursday morning**

He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep that night. He had roamed the castle and when he'd come across wayward students, he had scowled at them and sent them back to their dormitories without deducting points or giving detentions. He had been too distracted, too caught up in thought. Did he actually like her? He must do. Minerva had made him see that. Did she like him? She seemed to seek him out lately. She'd wanted his approval for that blasted tree. She'd talked to him every single day and seemed to tease him on purpose and he still hadn't hexed her for it. He wasn't stupid. Something had been happening. He just couldn't figure out what to do with it. He would have to speak with her. When she took her seat next to him for breakfast, she was looking tense and severe. She was still mad and he was now a man with a mission: he would get her to talk to him, one way or another.

"Professor Snape," she greeted evenly.

"Morning Hermione."

Her head snapped towards him, a deep scowl on her face. This was the first time he had used her first name and he could see it threw her off balance.

"Do you think that's funny?" she demanded.

"I'm not laughing. Coffee, Hermione?"

"Stop that!"

"Tea then? Milk, no sugar, I believe?"

WHACK.

"WHAT THE HELL, GRANGER?" he shouted, shooting up from his chair and rubbing the throbbing cheek she had just slapped.

"YOU STARTED IT!" She was also standing now.

"HOW?" he gasped.

"OUT!" came Minerva's voice. She grabbed both of their shoulders tightly, allowing no argument and firmly guided them towards the staff exit. The entire hall, students and teachers alike, were gossiping heatedly behind them. As soon as Minerva shut the door, separating them from the speculating scandalised audience, Hermione starting screeching again.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You can't do that!"

"What is wrong with you woman? I didn't do anything!"

"Minerva! You saw what he did!"

The headmistress stared at the Gryffindor lioness and shrugged, appearing as puzzled as he was.

"He offered me tea! And coffee!" she panted.

"And coffee," he agreed. "My offence being?"

"You... you can't just be nice to me after- you can't just pretend nothing ha- oh! You're impossible!"

She stalked away her arms swaying violently as she moved. Minerva patted his arm again.

"Maybe not the best way to go about it, Severus."

"Maybe not," he agreed. But he was nothing if not persistent.


	14. Chapter 14: Thursday afternoon

AN: The tea episode in chapter 13 is one that actually happened with my boyfriend. I love that you all think it's hilarious. In hindsight, it is, but I wasn't very rational at that point. I don't think Hermione is the most rational of creatures either. A bookworm yes, but very much controlled by emotions.

Anyways, chapter 14 shows you scarring and fear. Bless 'em. All will be well, I promise.

**Chapter 14: Thursday afternoon**

He'd already checked the staff room and the library. He was working his way down his list of logical places to look for the girl. Classroom 7A had Professor Septima Vector in it with a fifth year Advanced Arithmancy class but she confirmed that he'd find her apprentice working in the office next door. He knocked on the door and stepped inside without waiting for her permission.

"What do you want, professor Snape?"she bit after she'd identified the intruder.

"We need to talk. But before we do, I want you to take this."

He held out a hand with a small vial with a turquoise potion in it with a gentle silver hue to it.

"Draught of peace?" she considered aloud.

"Yes. I thought it wise to take some precautions, in case you got physical again."

"So you thought you'd drug me?"

Uh-oh.

She sighed and gave him a weary look. He'd been fully prepared to cast a shielding spell. There were many heavy objects around that she might choose to fling at his head but she didn't.

"Look, professor, I'm sorry I slapped you. It won't happen again. I'm sorry for everything. I thought we could be friends, that maybe you would want a friend. I misjudged. I'm sorry, I will leave you in peace from now on. Happy now? Will you go away now?"

Her eyes were glistening and she was trying to blink the dampness away. It didn't work, before long salty drops were trickling down her cheeks. He thought carefully about his answer.

"Not happy exactly. No. But you've apologised. I should like to do the same. It has been brought to my attention that I... overreacted last night. While I do abhor the holiday season, I was unduly harsh in taking my dislike of it out on you. I am sorry. You did not, in fact, misjudge. If you would accept my apology, I would not be opposed to... attempting a friendship with you. You are not unpleasant company as long as you refrain from shovelling Christmas spirit down my throat."

"Oh." She wiped her cheek with her sleeve and looked up at him.

"_Oh_?" he asked.

"Oh," she repeated. "Why? What upsets you about Christmas?"

"It's complicated. Bad memories," he shrugged. Perhaps he would go into it at a later date.

"Oh," she said again. Then there was a thoughtful pause. "I am afraid of hyacinths."

"The flower?" His eyebrows knitted together. An unusual phobia if ever he'd heard one.

"I used to love them and I noticed them in the forest when we were camping. They're a spring flower. They were in bloom. I remember their smell in the air when they dragged us... oh shit."

She'd started sobbing violently again. He didn't know what to do. He wasn't the comforting type. He was definitely not going to hug her, but perhaps he could distract her.

"Language, Granger," he chastised softly, handing her a handkerchief. She accepted the square piece of fabric and blotted her face with it.

"Sorry, Snape," she replied with a small smile.

Well. That might work. Not Severus and Hermione but not professor Snape en Miss Granger either. A fair compromise, he considered.

"Truce?" he asked, holding out his hand.

"Truce," she nodded and shook his hand.


	15. Chapter 15: Thursday evening

AN: I know it feels there's a lot of "one step forwards, two backwards" going on here, but if you're keeping track, they've only been growing closer for a week and they're both strong personalities who are second-guessing themselves a lot. The romance IS coming though guys, slowly but surely. After all, the Yule ball is still on the schedule.

I hope you enjoy the next chapter. I had a lot of fun writing it at least. Things have just calmed between our pair, but there's still the small matter of Hermione slapping Severus in public. Hogwarts is gossip paradise.

**Chapter 15: Thursday evening**

When she met him outside the Great hall for dinner, she had a mischievous smile on her face that only grew wider when she saw him.

"Oh perfect!" she yelped. "I thought I'd have fun telling you, but this is going to be a million times better. Come on!" she grabbed his arm and cast a disillusionment spell over them.

"Granger?" he asked. "What are you playing at?"

"Shh, you'll like it. We're going to _spy_," she giggled and she was doing that jittery fidgeting she did when she was excited about something. It was kind of endearing, really. He felt his stomach knot.

"Spy? Why?"

"Shush! Pay attention to your precious snakes," she whispered when a group of Slytherin boys turned the corner.

"He let her slap him in the middle of the Great Hall. She's definitely got him whipped!"

"Thinking with the wrong brain, more like. He probably likes it."

"Oh yeah, I've heard about that. Too much control in the day, they like to be dominated at night."

"Eww, naked Snape in my head. I did not need to see that!"

"I swear he's going soft. Last night, I was with Olivia and things were getting pretty hot and he just sent us back to the common room!"

"No detention?"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Circe. Do you think we should tell McGonagall? Maybe she's got him under some kind of spell."

"Snapey's in luuuuuuurve!"

He looked down at her and she had both her hands clasped over her mouth and her eyes were shimmering with mirth. She was having a hard time holding back her laughter.

"Finite incantatem," he spoke and looked at the group of students, a very angy scowl on his face.

"Evening, gentlemen." His voice was terrifyingly low and menacing.

"Ah!" screamed one.

"Oh gods!" moaned another.

"Mummy!" squealed a third.

The fourth just cowered and hid behind his comrades.

"We will have words about this, I assure you. After your detention tonight," he said in low velvet tones. The foursome nodded meekly and ran. Behind him, she was doubled over with laughter.

"All day! All day I've been listening to this!" she choked out. "Oh gods, that look on your face! Snapey's in luuuurve," she repeated in a sing-song voice.

"Very amusing," he grumbled. "You've ruined my reputation, woman."

"I know!" she screeched and had another laughing fit.

"You might want to sleep with extra wards tonight, Granger," he threatened. "Maybe if I kill someone I'll get some respect around this blasted school."

"All bark and no bite, Snape. You've gone soft, I hear."

He rolled his eyes and left her in the hallway. Dinner in the great hall was absolutely not going to happen tonight. He'd been exposed to quite enough gossip. And he had a very nasty speech to prepare for those Slytherins.


	16. Chapter 16: Friday morning

AN:Muhahaha. Snapey. xD Trickery in this next scene, I had a serious case of the giggles writing Hermione going Slytherin on Severus.

Once again, thank you for your lovely reviews. They keep me motivated! Oh, and I can write about 4 more stories based on rejected scenes from this one. I've kept them safe, so there'll be more from me when this is over. Oh yes.

**Chapter 16: Friday morning**

She smiled and patted the chair next to her as in an invitation. He rolled his eyes. Where else was he going to sit?

"Morning Snapey."

"Oh shut it, Granger."

"Sevy Snapey," she teased, errupting once again in giggles.

"Stop it. I am not 5 years old."

"But it's cuuuuuuute," she grinned. "Coincidentally, how old are you?"

"It's not polite to ask."

"I'll make you a deal, you don't have to tell me if you'll dance with me tomorrow."

"Absolutely not! I don't dance. I have no intention of making myself look like a fool."

"I believe Minerva's coined phrase is babbling, bumbling buffoon. And yes, I suppose you would look like one. Dancing requires _feeling_. And you're all _thinking_."

"I'll have you know I _can_ dance, Granger. I simply choose not to."

"Right. I'm not buying it. I mean, you've got that stick so firmly lodged up your backside, you could never give into the sensual sways of a tango or the whimsical twirls of a waltz."

Something clicked in his head. He would not be insulted like this. He would prove her wrong.

"That is quite enough. We will dance tomorrow and I will make you eat your words. Prepare to be swept off your feet, Granger."

"Excellent! I look forward to it," she grinned.

He gaped at her. She had completely bowled him over. Tricked him, somehow. How? He couldn't think. He felt like there was cotton wool where his brain ought to be. He should tell her to go to blazes, he should tell her _something_ but he couldn't even bring himself to close his mouth. Oh for crying out loud, pull yourself together, man! She was laughing now She was mocking him again. Smashing. And somehow they'd caught Minerva's attention too. Fanfuckingtastic.

"A waltz, was it? I'll be sure to tell the band," she chuckled.

They were ganging up on him! How did he get himself in this mess? And more importantly, how could he get out of it? Actually, did he want to get out of it? Dancing with her might not be so bad. Oh gods, he'd lost his marbles. She squeezed his leg -she squeezed his leg! No one ever squeezed his anything!- and smiled.

"You'll wrap your head around it eventually."

He'd gone mute. He must have gone mute. No sounds wanted to leave his throat so what other explanation was there? And then she was gone. He hadn't even noticed her leave. Minerva was shaking her head at him in what seemed like pity. Would someone please just kill him now?


	17. Chapter 17: Friday evening

AN: Aww, that's all I've got to say about this next bit. Aww!

**Chapter 17: Friday evening**

Worse than the gossip was the fact that the students no longer feared him as much as they used to. This was demonstrated when a short girl with hair the colour of ash approached the head table. One of the Gryffindors he had in his Advanced class, he recognised.

"Excuse me, Professor?"

"Miss Farthing?"

"I was hoping you would reconsider the essay you assigned this morning."

"Pardon?" he quizzed and his brows furrowed so tightly he would give himself a headache.

"You see, we have the Yule Ball this weekend so fitting in a potions paper is going to-"

"You wish me to excuse you from your homework, Miss Farthing?" he asked increduously. "Because of the ball?"

He glanced at the Gryffindors to see who was snickering. Obviously this was some kind of dare the girl was being forced to execute. His scrutinous glare was met with hopeful glances from the sixth years at all 4 house tables.

"Oh no, not just me, professor, I've come on behalf of the whole class. Won't you consider it, sir?"

He rose slowly and placed his hands on the table, leaning forward until he was looming over the impertinent student. He spoke in his silkiest tones. Tones that meant trouble.

"Miss Farthing, for your sake, I hope you have been put under a curse that is compelling you to do this. I suggest you go see Madam Pomfrey at once."

"Oh, I'm quite well, professor. Thank you for your concern. The thing is, sir, we thought, since this weekend will be quite busy, we could maybe-"

"Thank you for your concern? Have you got bats in the belfry, Miss Farthing? I do not negotiate on homework. I don't know where you got that absurd notion. Whose harebrained idea was this?"

"Miss Granger, can you explain it to the professor, please? He listens to you," the girl beseeched the apprentice next to him. Granger bit her lip, he could see her willing herself not to laugh.

"Go back to your table. NOW!" he bellowed at the Farthing girl.

"Yes sir. Sorry sir."

As she walked away he could hear her mutter "Worth a shot".

He sank into his chair and closed his eyes. A pained expression lay on his face and he groaned softly. He felt the hand of Hermione Granger on his shoulder giving a gentle squeeze. He glanced at her. She was giving him a thoughtful look he hadn't seen before.

"What?" he demanded.

"She's a Gryffindor," she said.

"Yes, I'm aware, thank you."

"You didn't take any points."

He hadn't taken any points. Why hadn't he taken points?

"Are you alright?"

He felt his stomach flip at the concern in her voice. Flip, then bubble and flutter.

"I may be coming down with something. There's a stomach bug going round, I've heard," he said.

"Yes, that might be it," she agreed, but she didn't seem at all convinced. To be honest, he hadn't convinced himself either even if the tightness in his abdomen got worse every time he thought about the dance tomorrow. The dance and their dance.


	18. Chapter 18: Saturday evening

AN: The ball! The ball! Get excited people, it's here at last!

I feel all warm inside because of your reviews. I can't begin to express how happy I am that you're enjoying the story. Also, Jesus Murphy, it's only 5 sleeps 'til Christmas? Better pick up the pace here...

**Chapter 18: Saturday evening**

He found himself impatiently scanning the crowd for her rather than listing possible excuses to flee the scene early. He told himself that the sooner she was here, the sooner he could prove his prowess - dancing prowess Severus, dancing! - and leave. He also knew he was deluding himself.

"Oh my," came her voice from behind him, "don't you clean up nice, Snape."

"You don't look half bad yourself, Granger," he tried to sound aloof but he wasn't sure he was pulling it off. The dress she was wearing was classy and entirely grown-up. A demure navy number with sleeves that ended at her elbows, calf-length, and paired with simple black suede heels. Chic and appropriate, he ruled and momentarily appreciated the wrap style that gave him a glimpse of the swell of her breasts. Eyes up there, Severus, he reprimanded inwardly.

"Thanks. Look, I just wanted to say- um- if you don't want to do the dancing bit, then that's alright. I um- I did flimflam you into it. A bit. Sorry."

"Yes, you did. But not to worry, Granger. _Flimflamming_ can be... admirable. Maybe we'll make a Slytherin out of you yet. I gave you my word. You will have your... _dancing bit,_" he said dryly, repeating her choice of words. With that he took her hand in his and pulled her onto the dance floor.

"Is this the part where I am swept off my feet?"

He didn't reply but once again his eyebrow said it all. He placed his free hand on the small of her back and pulled her closer. Already he could hear the whispering around them commence and it was short of pointing and staring, but only just. As the music turned to the familiar one-two-three of a Viennese waltz -McGonagall's doing, no doubt- she smiled and held out their joined hands.

"Sweep away then."

So he did. He led her expertly across the floor, in control but so elegant, so refined and very much aware of himself, of her and of their audience. He spun the pair of them exquisitely, leaving her breathless.

"Does that qualify as sweeping?" he asked smugly.

"Alright, Snape. You've got the waltz down. But you've got the posture for waltzing. You know, the rigid back thing. It's the stick," she suggested.

"Stick?"

"That one up your backside that we discussed yesterday," she clarified, smiling cheekily.

"Lovely," he grumbled but couldn't keep himself from smirking.

When the dance ended, he gave her a courteous bow and she giggled. "How Edwardian."

"Professor Snape! That was beautiful! You simply must dance with me," insisted Sybill Trelawney out of the crowd.

"Oh Merlin help me," he muttered and cast his eyes up in desperation.

"I'm afraid I'm not sharing tonight, professor. Why don't you ask Mr. Filch over there, he looks like he'd enjoy a dance?" suggested Hermione.

He gave her a grateful look when Trelawney huffed and turned away from them and she just shrugged and smiled.

" 's alright, Snape. You're stuck with me now though."

"Yes, well, better you than her."

"Sweetest thing you've ever said to me," she grinned.

"Shut up and dance, Granger," he ordered.

"Yes, dear," she replied and let herself be swept away again.

He felt like all was right with the world once again.


	19. Chapter 19: Saturday night

AN: More drunk Hermione, because she's simply hilarious when she loses her inhibitions. I couldn't resist. xD

Yay for my reviewers, oh you guys... *blush*

**Chapter 19: Saturday night**

They'd had several dances and plenty of enjoyable conversation. He hadn't even tried to sneak out. When the students had been sent to bed and he'd assisted with the clean-up, he had surprised himself and his colleagues. Then Hooch had brought the eggnog out for "motivation" and things had spiralled downwards very quickly.

"Come on, Snape, let's find some mistletoe!" she laughed, dragging him out of the hall.

"Granger, I am honestly starting to worry about your drinking, is this a weekly occurrence for you?"

"Oh pish posh. I only had 3. Maybe 4. Could've been 5. Who's counting anyway?"

"You _should_ be counting, Granger, since you evidently can't hold your liquor well at all."

"You're such a party pooper. It's the season to be jolly falalalala it's the season to drink yourself to folly falalalala lalalala."

"I'm amazed you can still rhyme or sing in that inebriated state."

"You'd be amazed at a lot of things I can still do," she giggled, and winked at him.

"Gods, woman, you're out of control."

"You'd like to see that, wouldn't you? Prissy Hermione losing control? But kisses first," she insisted.

"No one's going to be kissing that mouth, Granger. You reek."

"That's not very nice," she protested. "That's not nice at all! Why do you hate me?" she sulked. "I love you, Snapey! I do! You're just so snarky and sexy. I want to eat you up with a spoon."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Granger. Get a grip. You're lit up like a Christmas tree."

"Aww! A Christmas idiom! That's adorable!" She pinched his cheek and cooed. He rolled his eyes and pushed her along.

"Off to bed with you. Sleep it off."

"My place or yours?" she questioned. He ignored her and gave her another gentle push.

"I can't believe I'm doing this again," he grunted to himself. "You'd better be pleasant tomorrow."

"I can be pleasant tonight, if you want?" she flirted. "I can be more than pleasant. I can be anything you like, anything for you, Snapey." She turned around and pressed herself up to him. Her fingers caressed his cheek and then slid down his neck.

"Bloody fucking hell," he groaned, put his hands on her shoulders and peeled her off of him. He couldn't deny the physical response her shameless behaviour had on him, but he was not the type to take advantage of a drunk. He turned her around and pretty much shoved her through the corridors.

"My feet hurt," she grumbled when they'd reached the bottom of the staircase leading up to her room and she kicked her shoes off. Then she bent over to pick them up and rubbed her bottom along his crotch. He gasped and darted backwards.

"You likey?" she asked sweetly. Gods yes, he thought but gave a tight shake of his head. She pouted.

"Behave!" he protested weakly and guided her up the stairs.

"I don't want to behave. I'd rather be naughty. I might need punishing if I'm very naughty. Where do you suppose I could find a strict professor to teach me a lesson?"

He threw the door to her room open, shoved her into it roughly, then slammed it shut again.

"Get into bed, Granger," he ordered from the hallway where he was safe from her coquettish lunacy.

"No goodnight kiss?" he heard her ask.

"No. Go to sleep."

"Yes, sir."


	20. Chapter 20: Sunday morning

AN: Not much to say about this next one. I hope you like where I'm going with it. They're closing in on each other, definitely.

**Chapter 20: Sunday morning**

This time he'd put the vial of hangover potion next to a glass of water, ready for her when she decided to show up for breakfast. If she decided to show up, he considered. She didn't usually miss meals, but she might not want to face him today. If she remembered of course. It was gone half past ten when she shuffled into the Great Hall. She was wearing that abominable jumper again, the one with the reindeer, and those jeans that had distracted him in the library. She spotted the potion on the table and gave him a small gratified smile. She downed it all in one go, as he'd instructed last time and breathed her relief.

"Good morning," he spoke.

"Hm. Yes, it is looking better now. Thanks for that."

"Don't make a habit out of it," he chided.

"No, mum," she grumbled and picked up the water.

"That jumper is atrocious," he then said. "Why would you wear that with a hangover? Surely it would only make your headache worse?"

"I _like_ it! It's festive. It's comfy."

"It's ugly as sin."

"It's just Christmassy. Stop spouting scroogey nonsense."

"Bah humbug," he answered and poured himself more coffee.

"Hey Snape, where did you learn to dance like that? I mean, you've got _moves_, mister."

"Partying with purebloods will do that. If you want respect in those circles, you had better learn to dance. Where did you learn?"

"Minerva," she grinned. "She didn't want her Gryffindors embarrassing the good name of the house. We had lessons when I was in my 4th year. According to _Hogwarts: A history_ though, isn't there supposed to be a link with the Triwizard cup?"

"There was. But after Mr. Diggory died... well, suffice it to say we're not doing the cup anymore."

"Stupid war. Are we ever going to get over this?"

"Eventually. Time heals all wounds, Granger," he contemplated.

"Do you ever talk about it?" she asked.

"Never. Do you?"

She shook her head.

"They said I should and it would make me feel better. Drivel. A good swig of dreamless sleep every now and then to keep me sane. Everything else will fade when it fades."

"Quite," he agreed and searched his mind for something to break the tension that had arisen. "You know, Granger, we never did tango. Wasn't that part of your challenge?"

"Ha! Can you imagine Trelawney's face if we did? She was positively green with envy already."

"Wasn't she? You do realise the entire castle now thinks we're a couple now, right?"

"Meh," she shrugged.

"You don't mind?"

"Nah. Let them gossip. Besides, I could do worse. You're quite the catch. You've got that je-ne-sais-quoi."

"Snarky and sexy? You said something to that effect last night," he deadpanned.

"I wish I had black-outs," she mumbled and blushed prettily. He chuckled at her guilty flush.


	21. Chapter 21: Sunday afternoon

AN: You want me to hurry the fluff along, don't you? Ha! It's a-coming, but noooooot quite yet. Here's more playful interaction.

**Chapter 21: Sunday afternoon**

He had been working on potions for Poppy. Now he found himself in the final stages of the brewing process, waiting for the colour of the liquid to shift so he could add the split seeds. Someone had slipped into his classroom. The wards weren't full force when he was around, but he noticed the breach nonetheless. Then came the knock on the door to the lab.

"I don't like to be disturbed on Sundays or when I'm brewing. I am brewing on a Sunday, so this better be good!" he called and put a stasis spell over the cauldron.

"Alright professor Scorn McSpiteful. No need to haul me over the coals. It's only me," she joked when he opened the door and scowled at whoever dared to interrupt him.

"Your hair looks like a bird's nest, as usual, so that's not why you're here," he retorted with a grin.

"Hm, it's not," she agreed. "Is that volatile?" she pointed at the cauldron.

"Hardly. Standard bruise salve and it's under stasis. I am entirely at your disposal."

"But it better be good," she grinned and he nodded. "Look, I know we agreed no Christmas stuff and I promise you I won't insist, but I'm offering you cookies. They're ginger snaps and I made them. You can say no and I won't blow a fuse. Cool?" She thrust a round tin at him.

"_Cool_, Granger? You're suddenly _down with the crowd_," he snarled and took a biscuit from the tin.

"I can do the lingo if I want to. I just don't usually want to," she replied and hopped on a table.

"Then don't. Believe me, it's not an improvement. I've not thought of you as a silly little girl for some time now, don't make me reconsider. These are excellent, by the way," he said crunching the biscuit.

"Aww, thanks Snape, you have definitely gone soft. It must be my feminine wiles."

"Wiles, Granger? You wouldn't know wiles if they hit you in the face. I'm probably just being nice so you don't make me sleep on the couch," he played on the students' gossip.

"There is that," she laughed.

"You know, Granger, you're not so bad when you're not trying to show off."

"I don't show off."

"_But sir, are you sure you should be crushing those berries? The book says chop._" he said in a squeaky voice he had never used before. She gasped and threw him a nasty glare.

"Oh yeah, Snape? _50 points from Gryffindor for helping Mr. Longbottom. And 50 points from Gryffindor for not helping Mr. Longbottom fast enough_," she said copying his low silky tones.

"That boy was a menace!" he huffed.

"That boy is going to be on the payroll when Sprout retires and you know it. You're going to have to call him professor Longbottom before long," she snickered.

"Oh gods, I hadn't thought about that," he groaned. "Vector isn't leaving, is she? Is she? Not professor Granger. Please, anything but that!"

"Doubt it. But _Mistress Granger_ has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Only two more years," she giggled.

"_If_ you make it through your apprenticeship."

"Oh, I'm going to make it. If only to prove a point to you. Brightest witch of my age and that."

"Show-off," he teased.

"Yes dear," she replied, smiled at him and hopped off the desk. "Enjoy your Sunday brewing. And the biscuits. Oh, and Snape? Only two more days of dunderheads until the end of term."

"Biscuits and the promise of no dunderheads are a sure-fire way to a man's heart, Granger. You might have wiles after all."

She wiggled her eyebrows and left. He had a smile plastered on his face for the rest of the afternoon.


	22. Chapter 22: Sunday night

AN: Oh, you are going to hate me for this. I know it's a terribly clichéd plot device, but the scene was entirely too delicious to abandon. A lot of swearing in this one. Severus has such a potty mouth. Tsk.

To my reviewers: Thank you so much for your comments, they make my heart take a little leap of joy every time.

**Chapter 22: Sunday night**

She shut the door with a bump of her hip and his hands fell on either side of her head, flat against the door. He leaned forward, pushing her back with his lean body until her back was pressed up against the unyielding wood. Her hands crawled into his hair and pulled his face to hers. Their lips found each other and the kiss was forceful, demanding, desperate.

"Hermione," he gasped.

"Severus," she breathed.

No further encouragement was needed. He latched onto her mouth again. A whimper. Hers, his, it didn't matter. He moved his hands behind her neck and pulled her forward again, away from the door. His long fingers raked into that soft hair of hers and held her head in place while they moved around, keeping her lips locked with his. Their tongues parried in a delicious struggle for dominance and clinging to each other they stumbled over to the four poster.

He sank back on the bed and pulled her down with him. They were both on their sides, hands searching, exploring, roaming anywhere and everywhere. He dragged his lips down the column of her neck and further until he found that oh so alluring collarbone, so delicate, so feminine...

"Lovely," he muttered and licked, nipped, kissed, suckled. "You are lovely, Hermione."

Soft mewls of delight escaped her lips and one of her hands had made its way to his neck. Her index finger traced up to his ear and back down and when he gasped when the finger flitted over the sensitive scar tissue there, she did it again. Tingles ran up and down his spine, all leading to and from the centre of his arousal. It had been so long, too long and she was so much more than anything, anyone he'd ever dared to hope for. And she was his, she was all his right now.

Her other hand strayed down and found his hardness straining against the front of his trousers. Tentative, careful fingers slid across his arousal, testing, analysing, discovering. Then she gripped him tightly and purposefully moved her palm up and back down. It felt good. It felt amazing. It felt -oh Merlin- too good. Too bloody good. He started squirming and moved his hand down to grab hers and pull it away.

"Hermione, wait- please, don't- oh gods- oh- OH! Yessss! ... shit."

Shit. Bugger. Blast. Drat. Hell and eternal damnation. He fell back on the bed, his eyes shut tightly and said nothing.

When he felt the sticky mess in his trousers cool, he opened his eyes again and searched for her. He'd have some grovelling to do. She wasn't there. She'd left? When had she left? How? Then he realised he was under the covers. He couldn't remember getting under the covers.

"Hermione?" he called out as he sat up.

Eww, that damp patch in his groin was getting really uncomfortable now. He lifted the covers and accio'd his wand so he could cast a _tergeo_ on himself. Pyjama bottoms? Oh nuts. Hell's sodding bells. He spoke the cleansing spell and let himself fall back in the bed trying to remember the last time he'd had a wet dream. He couldn't.


	23. Chapter 23: Monday morning

AN: Who's bouncing up and down with excitement? Not yet? You will be after this bit. Snape has a minor epiphany.

**Chapter 23: Monday morning**

He noticed everything about her that morning. He noticed the way she casually tucked her hair behind her ear. He noticed how her hips swayed gently when she walked, and the way she smiled when she saw him. And he noticed that it sent his heart racing.

"Morning, Snape."

"Hrm?" he grunted, startled out of his reveries.

"Oh, grouchy, are we? What else is new? Have some coffee."

She poured two mugs of coffee, slid one towards him and unceremoniously dumped a sugar cube into the second one. She lifted the cup to her lips and closed her eyes when she took her first sip of the brew. A soft appreciative hum escaped her lips. Lips that then curled into that smile, ah that smile! Gorgeous, she was simply gorgeous. Oh Merlin, he was such a mess. He groaned softly.

"Cheer up, will you? I'm helping Septima with the second years after they have potions with you. I don't need them in tears, thank you kindly."

"Don't worry, Granger. I'm not grouchy. Just... distracted."

"Distracted? Well, that's unusual for you. What's going on in that head of yours then?"

"Stuff," he dodged.

Merlin, he could even smell her. Despite all the overbearing breakfast fumes, there was something distinctly _her_ in the air. It tickled his nostrils and teased and taunted. He knew it was ridiculous that he should pay so much attention to her. That it was inspired by nothing more than that dream, but Circe, that dream...

"Hey, I've been thinking, it's kind of ironic, really."

"Oh?"

"I've been thinking that it's ironic that I spent six years urging the boys to call you professor Snape instead of Snape or, you know, other things," she blushed.

"Greasy git? Overgrown bat? Dungeon dweller?" he suggested.

"Um.. yes." Her blush deepened.

"And here you are, calling me Snape. Yes, I suppose that is ironic."

Well done, Snape. You just killed the conversation, he thought, but he honestly couldn't come up with anything to say. No acerbic remarks, no sarcastic note, no witty quip. He couldn't do anything but stare, watch her as her hand hovered over a plate of pastries, deciding which one took her fancy. Of course she noticed his eyes boring a hole in her.

"Are you really alright, Snape?"

"Hrm? Fine, just fine. Tired perhaps. Glad to see the end of this term."

"If you say so. Look, Snape, if there's anything bothering you, you can talk to me, if you want. You know that right?"

Another evasive grunt. She bit into the cherry turnover she'd chosen. He found he could not stop watching her. Right where her upper lip curved, there was a tiny smear of cherry jam. He should've told her, he should've just given her a napkin, but he was now completely entranced. He leaned over and brushed his thumb over the mark, then sucked the digit. Her caramel eyes met his black ones.

"W-w-what are you doing?"

"Um. You had a- you had a- a bit of jam. Just there. Sorry."

"Oh. Right. Um. Ok. Thanks. I- I should go. I- I have work to do."

She took her mug and the rest of the turnover with her and sped out of the hall. Circe, what had he done?


	24. Chapter 24: Late Monday morning

AN: I wish I could write while I bake mince pies and cookies. Unfortunately, I can't and so Christmas prep kind of took over my day today. Sorry for the delay in updating. However, I shall try to get another update to you tonight to make up for it.

**Chapter 24: Late Monday morning**

Maybe Granger hadn't been wrong in her estimation that he'd make the second years cry. He was certainly on edge. No one was paying attention and there was an almost constant buzzing of chatting students through the classroom. What made it worse -much worse- was their chosen topic: him. Or more accurately: the Arithmancy apprentice and him.

"After you've performed the first incantation, you must lower the heat and allow the potion to simmer. While your potions are brewing - how long are you to let them brew, Mr Briar?"

"Um. a few minutes, professor?" answered the boy, unsure despite the fact that this was lesson was nothing new, but merely a repetition.

"A few minutes, Mr. Briar? Be exact! 10 points from Gryffindor!"

"Did you see that this morning? Oh, it was just the sweetest thing!" murmured a voice behind him. His head snapped back.

"Miss Hadley. How long does an Astringent draught need to simmer before adding the next ingredient?"

"6 minutes, professor."

"6 minutes, quite right. 10 points to Slytherin, Miss Hadley. And 20 points from Slytherin for talking."

"I know, they are so cute together!"

A soft giggle near the front of the classroom and he swerved over to the offending student.

"What do you add after the simmering, Miss Percy?"

"Um. I- I don't know professor."

"Then pay attention!" he roared. The girl flushed bright red and cast her eyes down. He was just about to take some points away for talking in class when another whisper penetrated his eardrum.

"Did you notice how she smiles when he looks at her? And he looks at her a lot!"

"Misses Bickersbane and Fetherly! Did I ask you a question?"

"No, professor Snape, sir," gasped both girls.

"20 points for talking. And you as well, Miss Percy."

"Do you think he's cranky because he didn't get any last night?"

"Mr. Magnus! What uses does Humsweed have?" he questioned.

"It- it can be used in a Hushing potion, sir."

"Indeed, Mr. Magnus. And how much Hushing potion will it take for you to keep your mouth shut in class? 20 points from you as well, Mr. Magnus. Anyone else care to talk in my class?"

The students shook their heads. A few bit their lips, others looked anywhere but at him.

"Quills and parchment," he announced and the class groaned en masse as they realised there was going to be a test. There was the rustling of bags as he strode to the front of the classroom.

When he leaned back on his desk, arms crossed as he waited for everyone to have their quills ready, he noticed how the girls fluttered their eyelashes and smiled sweetly, longingly even at him.

"Would you all stop looking at me like I'm Gilderoy Lockhart?" he exclaimed angrily.

The faces of the second years revealed confusion. They were entirely too young to know who he was talking about. The man had fallen off his pedestal and no one swooned over him anymore. It seemed teenage girls in Hogwarts had been waiting patiently for someone to fill the vacated professor/heartthrob position and now they'd collectively decided it was to be him, he realised. Damn.


	25. Chapter 25: Monday evening

AN: THis is what you've been waiting for, I think. Or part of it, at least. Enjoy!

I will attempt to place update tomorrow as well, but I can't make promises. Christmas eve will make a lot of demands on me.

**Chapter 25: Monday evening**

He quickly found that while he could deal with the incessant chatting, the whispers and the insinuations, the glances from the female half of the student body were on a whole other level. They drove him absolutely mental. It was nothing like the accusatory staring that he had gotten used to over the years. These glances were full of admiration, of adoration and even desire when it came to the senior classes. These glances were accompanied by sighs of yearning and sweet smiles. These glances made him so skittish and uneasy he wanted to hide under his desk. They also made him skip dinner in the Great hall.

He had wondered if every girl in the castle had been given Amortentia, but then came to a much more logical realisation: he had been dosed with something himself. Of course. He must have. Severus Snape simply did not have hormonal girls going into raptures over him.

He impatiently knocked on the door to her room. Three Gryffindor third years walked past and oh yes, sure enough, there were the glances.

"Granger!" he called out and now loudly banged on the door. He could not stand anymore of this.

The door swung open and she stood there in flannel pyjamas.

"Oh hello, Snape. I missed you at dinner. Come in," she gestured. He entered the room and then went straight for the kill.

"What did you put in the biscuits? What did you drug me with?"

"You think I drugged you?"

"You have the skills, you had the opportunity. Is it your idea of a prank? Because it's not funny! I trusted you, Granger! Now every female in this castle is bloody obsessed with me!"

"Obsessed? Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"I see," she considered. "Well... then... it's only normal if I... feel incredibly attracted to you right now as well?" she asked and slowly closed the distance between them.

"What are you doing?" he asked, aghast at her slender body closing in on him. The potion hadn't had this strong an effect on the students. Maybe adults reacted differently to teenagers? Had that been researched? Oh gods, she was touching him! Her hand was on his chest!

"Wow, Snape, you smell so... mmm... manly," she spoke as she pressed into him and backed him up against the wall.

"G-G-G-Granger! Get off me!" he gasped and tucked his hands into the small of his back to stop himself from grabbing her and pulling her in. He could not give into this. She would kill him as soon as the potion wore off.

"You are delicious," she drawled seductively. "I want to- I need to do this," she said and leaned forward to nuzzle into him, "and this," her nose dragging up his neck, "and this." She kissed him. Oh she kissed him! It was impossible not to respond to it. The moment her lips touched his, he was completely and utterly lost. He released his hands from the self-imposed restriction and wrapped his arms around her.

The first kiss had been soft and barely more than a gentle brushing but the second was a ferocious battle of wills, lips nipping at lips, fighting for dominance, tongues jousting feverishly. It was full of pent-up passion and desire and it was wrong, so wrong, he reminded himself. And then she pulled away, panting and her whole countenance flushed.

"Oh gods..." she breathed. "This is bad."


	26. Chapter 26: Monday evening (part 2)

AN: Calm down, deep breaths. Steady yourself. Ok, here we go! More!

**Chapter 26: Monday evening (part 2)**

He had his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm's length, literally. He looked at her as blood slowly drained from her flushed face. When he breathing gradually steadied, he realised his was doing the same.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" she blurted.

"Don't- don't apologise. The potion, you couldn't help it," he permitted.

"Yes, I could," she corrected. "There's no potion, Snape. Milk, sugar, eggs, flour, ginger. A pinch of nutmeg and pepper. That's the extent of those biscuits."

"There must be. The way you- and the rest of them! All of you... females!" he stuttered.

"Not me. If you were under the influence of a potion, I should've felt different. The attraction, it- it would have been stronger, would it not?"

He nodded in confirmation.

"It was as strong as always."

His eyebrows had risen higher than ever.

"When I was drunk, I know I said some things."

Snarky and sexy, she'd said, amongst other things. He remembered. He remembered it well.

"I um... Are you familiar with the expression In vino veritas?" she proceeded.

"Of course. A potions master would be nothing without proficiency in Latin and Ancient Greek."

She nodded and looked at him expectantly. Well, why wasn't she continuing? What was she waiting for? In vino veritas. Oh. OH! His eyes grew as wide as saucers and his mouth fell open.

"Granger, are you-?" He was so afraid of the answer he couldn't voice the question.

" 'fraid so. Smitten. Totally and completely. I'm sorry."

Oh Merlin. She didn't want to just find a snarky and sexy professor to punish her for being naughty? She had full-on fallen for him? Heavens.

"Bloody fucking hell," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry. I just thought, y'know, you had a right to know, is all. Sorry. Totally inappropriate, I know. I um- Just don't yell at me. I know it's not what you- But we can- We can forget all about that kiss. I won't- I won't tell anyone. It can just be- a memory. Something to- to remind me. Or- or obliviate me- it'll... hurt less, yes. Do that. I'll um- well. I wish- I couldn't help it-"

He slid his hands off her shoulders and down her arms, then took her hands in his as she babbled on.

"No potion? You are absolutely sure?"

She shrugged.

"Get Poppy to perform a diagnostic spell on you. See if she flings herself at you. I doubt it. Only I would be daft enough to do that. Look, please just go. I can't handle you telling me how stupid I am. Not now, ok? I need to sleep and then- then we can just pretend it never happened. Don't go all Hiroshima on me, I can't- I couldn't- just- I'll talk to Minerva about the seating. It must be awkward for you- I can have meals here- I don't need to - I know it's bad, I know that. I know. Gods I'm sorry-"

"It's not bad, you silly girl. Stop talking."

"But I- What are you doing? What is this? Why-"

"I said stop talking," he asserted and leaned down, covered her mouth in a soft, tender kiss then smiled against her lips.

"It's not bad," he repeated, "not bad at all."


	27. Chapter 27: Monday night

AN: I hope you all understand why things progressed (and are still progressing) slowly. I want to show the small changes in Severus's behaviour, the little ways in which Hermione affects him. There's a few more chapters to come, including Christmas at the Burrow. Oh, and I've tried, but smut doesn't seem to work in this story. It doesn't flow as I would like it to. So I'm just sort of... brushing the surface. Hope that's alright.

**Chapter 27: Monday night**

Things had escalated in the blink of an eye. Their kisses grew ever more insistent, ruthless and urgent. They had quickly begun tearing at each other's clothes and while her flannel nightwear had been easy enough to remove, his robes had given her considerable grief. She'd grumbled about "entirely too many buttons" and had soon opted for a flick of her wand and a _Divesto_. They had had no patience for exploring and no desire for tenderness. There had only been desperate need and neither expected or wished for gentle lovemaking. Instead, their joining had been rushed, crazed and frenzied but it hadn't mattered. It had been a release of everything they had both denied and suppressed for too long.

Now they were in a stunned but satisfied daze. For a while neither of them moved and they merely lay there, listening to the harsh pants becoming quiet breaths again. Eventually he turned his head and looked at her. She was still slightly flushed and my word, she was beautiful. She almost seemed aglow. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve her. He had gotten carried away, he had overpowered her, surely? He must have done. He could not imagine this girl - this woman giving in to him willingly, letting him do _that_ to her.

Her breathing halted momentarily and her eyes fluttered open, her brown orbs meeting his black ones. He tried to read her, but the emotions changed so fast it was hard to keep up. Confusion, surprise, comprehension, shock, embarrassment and then ah, that smile, that smile that could tear his heart to shreds. Lord. When had his heart become involved? Ages ago, Severus, ages ago.

Her small hand reached up to his face and brushed a stray lock of his raven hair away from his forehead. That simple gesture was so full of tenderness and so the opposite of the rejection he had been bracing himself for, it stirred something in him, infused him with something that he had not felt in many many years: hope.

She yawned and stretched, then sank back into the comfort of the bed with a contented purr.

"Severus?"

"Hrm?" She was using his first name again. Rolling off her tongue it was perfection.

"Thank you."

"Was it... alright? It was... quick. I don't know if you- I wasn't kind. Or patient. I'm sorry," he stammered.

"Shush. You were everything I needed. You were splendid. In Snapish: sufficient. 50 points to Slytherin."

"You seem quite fluent in Snapish. And you can't give points to faculty."

"Shame. Keep this up and you'd have the house cup in your pocket."

She smiled and lifted her head. Instinctively he slid his arm under it and then around her, drawing her in. She snuggled her head into the hollow in his shoulder and draped her arm across his chest. She yawned again.

"Lovely, this," she mused.

"Hrm," he grunted. He had no words for her. Lovely did not begin to cover it. Lovely was profoundly inadequate.

"You should sleep now," he said after a few moments' silence.

"I don't want to sleep," she sulked.

"You are sleepy. I saw you yawn. And your eyes are drooping."

"They're not drooping, they're... sultry!"

"Drooping," he repeated and kissed the top of her head.

She sighed happily and relaxed in his embrace.

"We will talk tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yes. Now sleep."

"Yes dear."


	28. Chapter 28: Tuesday morning

AN: Oh my god. I've been trying to get this baby (and the next one!) posted all day but ffn was down. Sad times!

Though it is now technically not Christmas anymore here, I hope you all had a good one.

I've just had some upsetting personal news. Nothing life altering, but for me... very intense. I won't go into the details but let's just say I'm... not ok atm. I will be though. Writing is usually my outlet and so I do intend to keep updating, but I can't guarantee that I'll be as diligent for a few days. Please don't hate me for it.

You're all lovely, lovely, you hear! Here's the morning after. :)

**Chapter 28: Tuesday morning**

He'd been awake for a while, but hadn't moved even if his arm was now completely numb. She looked at ease and he would not disturb her peace. He had passed the time observing. He had committed her gentle breathing to his memory, and her messy hair in tangles on her pillow would forever be in his mind's eye. As she continued to doze, his hands lazily they drifted back and forth over her arm. Her skin was soft and warm. As his fingertips caressed, he felt the raised skin. The scar. He'd known it was there, even if she kept it meticulously covered at all times. He briefly considered his own markings and the faded tattoo on his forearm. It was barely visible now. Her abrasions were healed but still looked raw and inflamed, and as ugly as the word they spelled out. He would see if he could increase the potency of the balm Poppy kept for such lesions. Perhaps Ashwinder eggs-

"Good morning." Her eyes had opened and she was looking at him curiously.

"Morning." He gently pulled his arm out from under her and his fingers tingled as blood flowed through them again. He rolled onto his side and placed a small peck on her forehead. She shook her head.

"That won't do," she complained. She put her hands on his face, her palms just under his jaws and her fingers on his cheeks, then pulled his lips to hers for a languid, delicious kiss.

"I see," he nodded and put his hands on her face and pulled her in in turn. She released a quiet moan and he grinned. "Better?"

"Much," she nodded her approval.

"As much as I'd love to do this with you all day, Hermione, we'll have to get up eventually."

"We've got time."

"Not much. I have a class."

"When?"

"Nine."

She picked her watch up from the nightstand, checked it and giggled softly.

"You're late, professor."

"Crap! How late?" he demanded urgently as he shot up. His eyes scanned the floor for his clothing and he was quickly up on his feet collecting the garments.

"About 15 minu-"

"Crap!"

"Language, Severus!" she grinned and sat up, watching his desperate sweeping of the room with mirth. Why couldn't he find his pants? He had his trousers in his hand, but where were his pants? He asked her. She accio'd them for him and they flew out from under the bed. He pulled the black cotton briefs on and danced around the room, swearing continuously as he squirmed into his trousers.

"There's a sock on the bookshelf. No, further to the left," she helped.

"Crap crap crap!" he continued, collecting said sock and wriggling his foot into it. He finished dressing in panicked haste. Second sock, shirt, frock coat, teaching robes. He looked at Hermione who was still sat on the bed and now laughing her head off at him. Oh bugger. Shoes! He needed his shoes.

"Gods, I'm sorry about this, but-" Ah, there they were! He hopped around the room on one leg as he pulled the first shoe on.

She chortled at his hopping. "Will I see you at lunch?" she asked between bursts of laughter.

"My rooms," he agreed and shoved his second shoe on, repeating the hopping.

She just waved at the door for him to leave and rolled on the bed, holding her stomach as she snorted and wheezed. Well, at least she'd enjoyed that, he thought as he rushed down the corridors.


	29. Chapter 29: Tuesday morning (part 2)

AN: This 503 error is really getting on my nerves. Anyway, here's the next chapter. I feel bad for Severus. But only a little bit. XD

**Chapter 29: Tuesday morning (part 2)**

Why did it have to be the sixth year Advanced Potions class? They were strewn about the class, on chairs, on the floor, on the workbenches. There was tittering, howling, screeching, laughing and roaring. It was mayhem. He crossed his arms and cleared his throat loudly, making sure his expression was stern.

The scene before him froze as in a muggle photograph except that 15 faces turned towards him with mouths agape and eyes wide. Gone soft, had he? Ha! He had not spoken a single word and they were about to wet themselves. He still had it. Then the atmosphere changed. Brows furrowed, eyes blinked again and again and confusion appeared on the faces. One student gasped, a second scratched his head and several looked at him, then at each other in bewilderment. What was wrong with them? He'd known they were a boisterous lot, but why weren't they stunned? Why weren't they whimpering and cowering? Finally one voice broke the silence.

"Are you alright, professor?"

"Miss Farthing?" he hissed at the girl that had asked for a dismissal of the homework.

"You... have you been in a fight, sir?"

How dare she? The nerve! The cheek! Insolent chit! He looked down at himself. Well, he didn't look as immaculate as he usually did, sure, but it wasn't that bad, was it? A little rumpled, maybe a bit dusty. And there was cat hair on his trousers and all down the left sleeve of his robes. He hadn't combed his hair. He knew what it looked like when he woke up and he had not touched it. Shit. Actually, it was pretty bad.

"In. Your. Seats," he recovered, his voice even, slow, deliberate and terrifying, he hoped.

The delinquents instantly scampered to their seats. He made his way to the front of the classroom and stood at his desk, his arms still crossed. Were those- footprints? On the mahogany? Someone had stood on his desk! Oh, he would break them like matches, the little bastards.

"Your homework?" he demanded and quickly the sixteen-year-olds ducked down to retrieve parchments from their bags.

The door to the classroom swung again and there she stood, looking only mildly better than himself. She had donned brown slacks and a red jumper and her hair was pinned up in a clip but there were stray strands and plucks sticking out in all directions. She blushed deeply and bit her lip. His heart skipped a beat. She looked delectable. He wanted to ravish her right then and there, he wanted to mark her as his and nearly -nearly!- forgot about their audience as he moved back to the far end of the classroom.

"Miss Granger?" he asked, remembering to be formal, when he'd reached her.

"Um. Sorry to interrupt. You- you forgot your wand, professor Snape" she spoke and held out her hand. His black walnut wand lay in it. The class exploded. Shouting, hooting, stamping of feet, whistling, wolf calling and applause culminated in a deafening roar.

"I thought you'd need it," she explained, only to him.

"Yes. Thank you," he accepted his wand and their fingers touched with the exchange. Their eyes were locked together and their breaths bated.

"KISS HER ALREADY!" screamed one excited Gryffindor.

Her eyes flicked into the classroom and widened. He saw panic briefly course through her and felt something wrench and twist in agony inside of him. Then she took a deep breath and turned back to him. She leaned up on her tiptoes and daintily pressed her lips to his cheek. The class hooted again.

"I'll see you at lunch," she said and left.

Disappointment resonated in the classroom. The students felt cheated out of a show. He felt like he should've scooped her in his arms and snogged her senseless.


	30. Chapter 30: Tuesday noon

AN: These two really need to have THE talk. But they're both pigheaded, so it won't be that straightforward. Also, I love the way Hermione starts rambling when she's nervous, so I've done some more of that. Because I can. Insert evil cackle here.

**Chapter 30: Tuesday noon**

At 12 sharp, the knock on his door came. Punctual as always, of course. He bid her to enter.

"Hello Severus," she smiled and stood in the centre of the room, her hands clasped in front of her as she took in his sitting room. She'd fixed her hair he noted with some regret. He had liked it dishevelled. It had been evidence of what had transpired in the night, it had made it tangible. But he'd showered and changed as well so he had no right to complain.

"Sit. We can order lunch here," he offered and gestured to the armchairs. They both asked the house elf for sandwiches and tea and shared insignificant chitchat, ignoring the elephant in the room.

"How was your class?" she finally asked. He said nothing but snorted derisively.

It had been impossible to calm the students and they'd barraged him with questions. He'd scowled, he'd snarled, he had taken points for cheek and given detentions for speaking out of turn but none of it had mattered. They'd left the class an hour later in a chorus of cheers interlaced with "Way to go, professor!" and "She'd be a fool not to have you, sir!" and the worst one: "You go get her, tiger!" He'd never felt so embarrassed in his life. And those students were having lunch now. Within minutes their tryst would be all over the school.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "I know it bothers you, the gossip."

"Yes," he said simply. Oh, what's with the one-worded answers, Severus, you fool?

"They'll be gone by tomorrow noon."

He shrugged. That only meant parents would hear as well. And then it would spark the interest of the public, then the sodding newspapers. Damn, there would probably be a Skeeter column in the Prophet about them within the week.

"Why does it bother you so much? I mean, is it because you are so private or is it- is it-" she faltered.

"Is it what, Hermione?"

"Is it because it's me?" she completed the thought.

He tilted his head and saw the damp glistening in those caramel pools. She was biting her lip again.

"Don't do that," he reprimanded and she released the plump pink flesh.

"Is it because it's me?" she repeated pleadingly. And oh, that look, that distressed look in her eyes, it make him want to reach out and assure her it would be ok, it would all be fine. But he didn't.

"No," he said. "It's not because it's you. I can't- I need- I want-"

For pete's sake, Severus! Use your words, you're good with words. But the three words that kept popping into his head were too much too soon and he would not even permit himself to think them.

"What do you want, Severus? Do you want to forget about last night, pretend it never happened? I'm not sure I can do that. But I can leave. I can apprentice elsewhere. Do you want me to go? Please don't ask me to go. I can't go," she stumbled over her own desperate confusion, tears still brimming in her eyes.

"No, don't go. Don't ever go," he said so softly he wasn't sure she'd heard. He didn't know where it had come from. Somewhere deep inside, somewhere fragile and protected. Somewhere she'd discovered and tugged and pulled at until it surfaced. He didn't know where it had come from, but he knew it was the truth. He wanted her to never go.

She leapt up, landed in his lap and wrapped her arms tightly around him. She buried her face in his chest and shook softly as she sobbed into him. He folded his arms over her and rubbed her back, soothing her until the sobbing subsided.

"Oh you silly girl," he whispered and felt more words bubbling up from inside that protected, truthful place. With a plop the house elf appeared with the sandwiches and the words scurried back to safety. He pushed her back, slightly, lifted her face to him with a finger under her chin and reassured her with a tender kiss. Her mouth curved into that gorgeous smile again and he wiped her face with his thumb.

"Lunch is here," he said. "Let's eat."

"Yes, dear."

AN: Get a mop and a bucket, I am in a puddle. Aww aww aww! So sweet!


	31. Chapter 31: Tuesday afternoon

AN: Romance. Oh yes. Gods, this is getting a lot more long-winded than the originally intended 10 chapters. Well, if you're still with me, I'll just keep letting it go where it goes, eh?

**Chapter 31: Tuesday afternoon**

Their luncheon had been spent in companiable silence. He was scared to put his foot in it again, so he didn't dare say much at all. To his delight though, her tears had dried and the smile hadn't left her face. She'd even winked at him when their hands touched when they both reached for the teapot at the same time. When he'd divulged that he was done for the day, for the term actually, as he had no afternoon classes on a Tuesday, what he'd really meant was "Please stay with me."

She had apologised and explained that she did, in fact, have an Arithmancy remedial group. She had left not much later after another tiptoed smooch on his cheek. "That won't do," he'd murmured and he had claimed a proper toe-curling kiss. It was when the door shut behind her that he'd decided he wanted to do something for her. Something that would make her happy after she'd been so upset. Something that would make her feel wanted.

He had been forced to accept one of Hagrid's rock cakes -honestly, did he put actual rocks in them?- and a cup of the vile brew the half-giant called tea, but he had done it for her and needs must. Then he'd had to enlist Minerva's help. Her eyes had twinkled like there was no tomorrow but she had not asked impertinent questions or made untoward remarks. She had simply done what he'd requested.

Now he was stood outside classroom 7A, waiting for Hermione to finish her remedial class. First two Slytherin boys walked out and when they saw him, they spoke a respectful greeting. Still, they walked away sniggering. Ah, so the rumour mill _had_ been fueled.

He caught sight of her stood in the centre of the classroom in her red jumper, a quill tucked in her horribly bushy hair and ink stains on her hands. Even so, she was a vision. She was chatting to three girls: two Hufflepuffs and surprisingly, a Ravenclaw.

"Make sure you get those exercises done over the holiday and we'll check them together in our next session. I think you will be up to speed with the others after that," she said encouragingly.

The girls looked pleased at her words. "Thank you, Miss Granger!" they vocalised their glee. He felt himself start to smile. Then the girls walked towards the door, towards him. "Good afternoon, professor," they greeted him as one and went on their way giggling and whispering.

"Hello Severus," spoke Hermione. "What are you smiling about?"

"Smiling? Don't be ridiculous, I don't smile, I smirk."

"Whatever you say, love," she grinned. "Um. Sorry. Severus."

He was definitely smiling now. Love. She'd called him love. And he liked it.

"Come," he said and grabbed her hand. "I want to show you something."

He guided her down to the dungeons, then stood back and watched her as she looked around, amazed. He'd decorated. Nothing like the outrageous madness she'd applied before, but there were elegant wreaths hanging on the doors, just spruce with silver ribbons weaved through them. The tree was a copy of the one in the staff lounge, only the piping on the ornaments was silver instead of gold and Minerva had had to use plain lights instead of candles. She hadn't known the spell for the candles.

"Minerva did the transfigurations. Hagrid got the tree. Really I only did that," he pointed up at the mistletoe suspended from the ceiling.

"It's lovely, Severus. But why?"

"Because you like it." Her beaming smile lit up her face.

"I do, but won't it drive you mental?"

"I'll manage," he mumbled. Somehow he had a feeling he might like Christmas a lot better this year.

"It's a veritable Christmas miracle. Now, about that mistletoe-" she suggested.

"Hm, it is tradition, isn't it?" he allowed with a chuckle. When a flock of Slytherins ladies exited their common room, they pulled apart in a flash and pretended to be inspecting the decorations instead of each other's tonsils. The girls' doting glances assured him that no, they weren't fooling anyone.


	32. Chapter 32: Tuesday evening

AN:I just enjoy playing with these characters so much, I can't stop. I may need help. xD

I absolutely love reading your reviews, they make me incredibly happy and motivate me to keep writing.

**Chapter 32: Tuesday evening**

"Severus," she started over the dinner that she'd insisted they had in the Great Hall, "stop fidgeting."

"I don't fidget," he retorted and dropped the dessert spoon he'd been... fidgeting with. He turned his attention back to the honey-glazed ham, roast potatoes and apple sauce on the plate. He started aimlessly rapping his fingertips on the table. She tutted and shook her head.

"I can't help it. They keep doing... _that_!" He gave a short nod towards the long house tables. Scattered along them were girls that had him firmly fixated with their gazes. They sighed and smiled sweetly, occasionally one would wave and he would flinch.

"It's unnerving, Hermione! Maybe I do need Poppy to check me for any spell damage. This never happened before!"

"Before what?"

"Before you decided to become the bane of my existence."

"You have several banes of your existence, Severus. Let's see. There's Harry and Neville. You had Voldemort himself and Albus of course. Your colleagues earned the caption once or twice, I bet. Draco as well, no doubt, and his father. A bunch of other death eaters. Then the Marauders. Your sixth years. Miss Farthing is a contender for the title as well, isn't she? It's a pretty extensive list, don't you think? Maybe you ought to pick a new category to file me under."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Being in a league of your own."

"Oh but Severus, I already am," she replied and while he didn't look at her, he knew she'd be gracing him with that cheeky smile. "The girl who beat your NEWTs score will do nicely for a label."

"Know-it-all," he grumbled.

"Bat."

"Chit."

"Prat."

She threw her head back in a throaty laugh and he smiled at her. She was exquisite. Not just the way so looked -stunning, mind!- but the way she allowed him to be his caustic self and gave as good as she got, he loved that about her. Loved? Shit. Don't go there, Severus. Don't even think it. He quickly looked away and back out into the hall.

"They're doing it again!" he moaned when he received a wink from a fourth year Gryffindor.

"Get used to it. They think you're a byronic hero."

"What?"

"Darcy. Rochester. Heathcliff. Snape," she itemized.

"Oh dear lord," he grunted, recognising the characters from muggle fiction.

"Told you, snarky and sexy. And the brooding thing. Terribly brave war hero. Exceedingly intelligent. Commanding presence. And you have that voice," she continued and seemed to drift off in a day dream. Was that how she saw him? Well, that was... nice. Very nice. He felt his chest swell a little.

"And now you've shown them you can be awfully romantic too, so... You will have teenage girls fawning over you for years to come, I'm afraid."

His hand wandered under the table and found her knee. His long fingers drifted up, stroking the inside of her thigh through her slacks and she grabbed his wrist to still him.

"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed.

"Fidgeting," he grinned. She batted his hand away but bit her lip timidly and a pretty flush coloured her cheeks. Apparently she didn't disapprove of all fidgeting. He'd be sure to ask her to come back to his quarters after dinner to see just how much fidgeting she'd let him get away with.


	33. Chapter 33: Tuesday night

AN: Still no extensive smut, dears. Some day, in some other story, perhaps. But here, it's not right and it shan't happen. However, there's plenty of hinting at it because Severus is just such a sexy beast. xD

**Chapter 33: Tuesday night**

She'd started smothering him with kisses as soon as he'd shut the door of his front room and they'd tumbled onto the floor. He had protested when she'd started unbuttoning his frock coat. He was too old to be having sex on the floor. Did she really want him to put his back out? She had given in and he'd shown her just how much better a comfortable mattress was and he'd been very thorough indeed in getting his point across. Now he was on his side, propped up on one elbow and she lay next to him, boneless in her post-coital bliss.

"Spoon me," she requested as she rolled onto her side with a happy sigh.

"Pardon?"

"Spooning. You know. Snuggling."

"Snuggling? Why do we need spoons for that?"

"Oh gods, Severus. You've never spooned before? It's a... position. You know, snug together, back to front, like spoons in a drawer. You can be the big spoon, I'll be the little spoon. Just scoot up here. Down a bit, yes, there you go. Put that arm over me, mm, just perfect. Now snuggle."

He sighed and tried to get to grips with the position. Something wasn't right.

"Hermione?"

"Hrm?"

"What do I do with the other arm?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's just... It's just sort of pressed between us. Is that right?"

"Is it comfortable?"

"No."

"Try folding it up and clutching it to your chest." He did as she instructed and yes, it was an improvement.

"Better?"

"A little," he conceded, then started sputtering and blowing in her neck and on her head.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying not to eat or inhale your hair."

"Sweet Merlin," she grumbled and sat up.

"Why'd you move?" he asked.

She looked annoyed. Annoyed and gorgeous. When she crossed her arms like that, her breasts were pushed up and they were just so... naked. He loved the view, despite her sullen glare. He grinned and she huffed when she realised he'd been ogling her chest. Outraged, she pulled at the covers and clutched them to her. He just shrugged. She grabbed her wand and shouted "Accio hairclip." She tied her hair up and sank back down, tugged his arm over her again and he felt how tense she had become. He playfully nipped at her now exposed earlobe, hoping to distract her from her frustration with him.

"Hermione?"

"Shut up, Severus. You're ruining it." Oh, she was definitely cross. As she huffed, her hips moved into his slightly and he had a light bulb moment about the perks of this spooning malarkey.

"Sorry," he said. "I do like it, this spooning."

"You do?"

"I can see it has," he said and his hand crept up across her stomach and cupped a breast, "benefits."

"Severus Snape!" she exclaimed but he noted she didn't move his hand and didn't sound quite as angry anymore. He gently squeezed the supple flesh under his digits and she released a soft moan. Her hand slid over his and she coaxed his fingers into massaging the cushiony orb. He tutted and leaned over to whisper in her exposed ear.

"Insatiable little minx. I thought we just did this?"

"Did we? I forgot. Refresh my memory," she purred.

He growled deeply and started his attack on her flesh in earnest. The last clear thought that flashed through his mind was that he would be spooning Hermione whenever she wanted him to.


	34. Chapter 34: Wednesday morning

AN: Ok, consider me chastised. No more apologies for the lack of lemons. Onwards with the story! It's almost Christmaaaaas. In the story, that is. I got a bit carried away and side-tracked and didn't make my self-imposed deadline. But no one minds, right? RIGHT? *sweat*

I was going to do a rewrite but I just keep tripping over the same issues. So. I don't know now. I'm stuck.  
The plot holes and time line are killing me, but maybe I ought to just go with it. Ok? Ok. Let's do that.

Now, where were we? It's the day before Christmas eve and the students are leaving today. On a Wednesday? Yes, I KNOW. Hush. xD

**Chapter 34: Wednesday morning**

When he woke up she was no longer in his bed but the scent of java hung in the air and he heard stirring in the front room.

"Hermione?" he called out.

"In the sitting room. Good morning."

"Morning. Is that coffee I smell?" he asked.

"Yes. And there's breakfast too, so you had better get your arse through here," she laughed.

He got out of bed and found that his dressing gown wasn't on its hook. Instead he grabbed a pair of briefs out of the top drawer of his dresser and put them on. Wearing just those, he left the room.

"Have you seen my dre- ah. Yes, you have."

She smiled guiltily. The bathrobe was too big for her lithe frame and much too long but he found he could not peel his eyes away from her.

"Sorry. But I sorted food so you can't get mad."

"Quite. I'll just eat in my pants then?"

"I won't complain," she giggled.

"No, I imagine you won't." He sat down on the arm of the chair she was in rather than opposite her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He realised how very domestic they were being with each other and he didn't mind. He accepted the chocolate muffin she held up.

"Wholesome," he commented snidely.

"Sod wholesome. These are tasty," she countered and he smiled and broke the top off the cake, then stuffed half of it in his mouth. Very tasty.

"Severus?"

"Yes, pet?"

"Ooh, I like that," she smiled up at him.

"Pet?"

"Yes."

"I see. What were you going to say?" he asked, slowly combing his fingers through her hair.

"Ah, I wanted to ask you- Mmm, that's nice. It's- oh-" she sighed and leaned into his touch.

"Full sentences, pet. It's hard enough to make sense of you as it is." He brushed her hair behind her ear and pressed his lips to her temple.

"Then stop touching me! I can't concentrate. You had better sit over there," she pointed at the other armchair and he chuckled warmly as he moved to the twinned seat.

"The thing is-" Oh Circe. There was a thing. Panic soared through him. Things were never good. She must've come to her senses and realised her crush on him was nothing more than that. She took a deep breath and he braced himself. It's been lovely, Severus, but I don't think we should see each other anymore. Yep. Something along those lines. He felt his hands tighten around the armrests.

"Iwashopingyoudcometotheburrowwithmeforchristmas."

"Come again?"

"Please. Come to the Burrow with me?"

"Why?"

"Because I want to spend Christmas with the people I- I care about. That includes you."

Sweet Nimue. She was biting her lip again. He debated ways to refuse her, but realised that it was a wasted effort. He could not refuse her anything.

"What about the others?" he tried. "They would have... questions."

"I don't care. You have my permission to hex them if they get out of hand."

"Indeed? Well, in that case..." He sighed deeply as he spoke. He was done for. Neck deep in dragon dung. But she was worth it. All of it. He knew it to be true as soon as she was in his lap and had her arms flung around him while she planted small wet kisses all over his face.


	35. Chapter 35: wednesday noon

AN: AH. This next chapter is a bit... intense. I won't say more about it, because that would ruin it, but I've been slaving over it for hours to get it just right. I hope I did.

Now if you'll excuse me, Love Actually is on and it has our favourite actor in it. Squee.

**Chapter 35: Wednesday noon**

"Severus?"

"Hrm?" he grunted, holding her close in his lap. One thing had led to another and his briefs now lay abandoned on the floor. He had wrapped the dressing gown over her like a blanket to keep both of them warm.

"I'm scared."

"Of me?"

Merlin. Had he really scared her that much when he'd been angry with her? Was it the fact that he was a death eater in a past life? Was it everything he'd done to her while she was his student? Was it the stories of his year as headmaster? He had been cruel, nasty, horrible. Of course she was scared.

"No. Not of you. You're a good man, Severus. Everything the students see in you is true. It's real."

"It's romanticised poppycock."

"No, it isn't. Ginny told me that, in hindsight, you did everything you could for them. Detention with Hagrid who would keep them safe? Cleaning the kitchens so they could eat? Helping in the infirmary so that Madame Pomfrey could heal them? Your actions don't lie, Severus."

He kept silent. He didn't like to hear about his so-called good deeds. He'd never felt like the hero that the papers had made him out to be. How could he when so many had gotten injured or killed. He could've done more. He should've done more.

"I'm not scared of you, Severus. I'm scared of this. Of what's happening. I've never felt like this."

"Like what?"

"I could just sit here all day. I've never- I've never wanted that. I've never been able to linger. I always wanted to just- just go, really. There were always things to do. Things to get on with. I couldn't just... be, you know? Not worry about anything and just enjoy the moment. With you, it's different. I could quite happily just cuddle and want nothing else. Just get lost in you. Forever. It's... terrifying."

If his heart had been made of ice, she'd melted it with those words. Forever. He wanted that. He held her tightly and allowed the words to come up. He let them drift through his mind and they were straining to take charge of him. He thought them over and over again and like the beating of his molten heart they were a steady rhythm that resonated through him, became a part of him. He wouldn't speak, the words would burst out, so he just buried his face in her hair. He didn't want her to see him like this, so vulnerable, so completely and utterly hers.

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Tell me about Christmas."

"It's not a good story, pet."

"Tell me."

"My father. He was- not a nice man. Abusive. But it was part of my life. I was used to it. Then I got my Hogwarts letter and I... I didn't have to see him every day. I got... hopeful. Things were better. Even with the Marauders, I was... safer. But I was always made to come home for Christmas. To me, Christmas isn't a time of peace, Hermione. It's pain, and crushed hopes. I- I never attended parties, even later. Even now. I spend the day alone."

"Because you can't be hurt that way."

"Yes."

"I won't let you get hurt," she whispered and cradled his head against her shoulder. "Thank you for telling me, Severus."

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I don't expect anyone to hear about this."

"Of course not. Just you and me." The words pounded, nudged and bumped, demanding to be spoken. I love you, Hermione. I love you. I love you.


	36. Chapter 36: Wednesday evening

AN: Ah, slow and agonising torture eh? There there, it's going to be ok. Deep cleansing breaths.

**Chapter 36: Wednesday evening**

They had showered and dressed and he had insisted that they should eat something and they had settled on soup. Afterwards, he had shown her his study. She had squealed with delight and then spent a full hour perusing the books and making a pile that she wanted to please please pretty please with a cherry on top borrow. Of course he'd said yes. She'd picked the top one off of the pile and was now sat in front of his fireplace, engrossed in the original French version of Licornes Extraordinaires. She sighed deeply, then, muttered something under her breath which cause him to look up from his own book.

"Struggling?"

"Hrm. I bet you never thought you'd hear me say this, but there are words I don't understand here. It's specialised vocabulary, I suppose. Not something you learn from reading Le Monde. Very few articles about unicorns in that. It's a muggle newspaper you see. Dad studied in France for a year. Hermione, it's use it or lose it with languages," she imitated and gave him a small smile.

"You miss them," he spoke and closed his book. He walked over to her and stood behind her. Then he leaned down, wrapped his arms around her and leaned his head on top of hers.

"Immensely. But they are well and that's why I did it in the first place."

"It was the only way to keep them safe," he nodded.

"Thank you. I keep telling myself that but I know they'd be angry. They would be upset for not having had any say in the matter. For me deciding for them. Even if it was for their own good."

"You did the right thing, pet. Now, show me the bit you're struggling with." His lips touched the top of her head and she released his hand.

He ended up grabbing his chair and settling down next to her. Occasionally she read out a fragment and asked for his help or his opinion. He gave either freely and found himself fascinated by her own insightful remarks. He also couldn't help mocking her pronunciation. Apparently she did only _read_ French. She allowed his goading and asked him to read bits out to her so she could pick up the sounds. He was doing just that when the floo flashed.

"Severus sodding Snape! Was that French? Fucking hell, man, you sound even sexier in French. If I didn't lean the other way-"

"Hooch?" he asked, looking at the flying instructor's face in the fire. Drunk. Indeed the season to drink yourself to folly, he considered Hermione's carolling.

"We're having our thank-the-gods-they're-finally-gone gathering in the lounge. The usual suspects plus Neville. The boy had a plant to watch over. A plant! Honestly, he needs to get himself a girlfriend. Now, you don't deserve this, you gruff bastard, but out of the goodness of my heart, I'm telling you anyway. Minerva has brought the good stuff. There's a bottle of 60 year old Aberfeldy up here. Oh hi, Hermione. You should come too," winked the brash witch.

He groaned. It was a ruddy waste to let an already plastered Rolanda Hooch at an exquisite single malt. He looked at Hermione and her eyes shone brightly, matching her smile.

"Ah. Tradition," he clarified. "Do you want to go?"

"Please," she beamed.

"Very well. Hooch, don't you dare touch that bottle!" he growled at the fireplace. "Now out of the way, witch, we need to use this floo."

Hooch let out a barking laugh and closed the connection. It took all of 30 seconds for Severus to flash into the staffroom and Hermione followed after him.


	37. Chapter 37: Wednesday night

AN: Pfew. I wrote you a double chapter because I didn't want to split the scene. I haven't proofread it properly though, so forgive errors, please. I'm sure there will be several. It's past midnight here and I desperately need sleep, but here you go. Enjoy it.

To susan sebest: I never considered daddy issues really, but now that you've pointed it out, yes, I can see what you mean. What I was trying to do was display Severus's protective streak. But I concur, perhaps I have overdone it. Ah well.

**Chapter 37: Wednesday night**

"Evening, swots!" greeted Hooch. "What are you working on?" she continued. Hermione gave her a quizzical glance, Severus frowned.

"Oh, fine, don't tell me then. See if I care. I'm surprised old Snape here lets you use his library, he must have a soft spot for you. I'd almost believe the gossip," she laughed.

"Severus! I'm glad you came. I wasn't sure you would this year. Which is why I brought that for bait," pointed headmistress McGonagall at the bottle. "Hermione, it's good to see you, dear. Come, sit."

"Are you going to open that or do you want to wait till it hatches? Could be a while," prodded Hooch.

"Fetch the tumblers, you insufferable woman," Severus directed the quidditch referee.

"Right. How many of us are there? One two- ok. Six? Yes, six."

Glasses were filled, and no ice was offered. They all knew better than to ruin a quality distillery.

"What do we drink to?" asked Filius.

"To our friends, and the strength to put up with them," said Severus pointedly.

"I'll drink to that," grinned Hooch, looking back at him.

"Cheers!" chimed Minerva.

The scotch really was excellent. Hermione made a face when she took her first sip. He had expected it, what with her preference for eggnog and mulled mead. What did surprise him was Longbottom who languidly savoured the taste and sighed contentedly.

"You know, that auror we got in for DADA is rubbish," complained Minerva. "We'll be lucky if he lasts the year. Has no class discipline whatsoever. I'm going to have to look for a replacement AGAIN."

"Get buggerlugs to do it," pointed Hooch at Severus, "he's wanted it for ages."

"Buggerlugs is not interested anymore. He's had quite enough of defending against the dark arts."

"Well said," agreed Filius. "To times we will forget and friends we will remember."

"Hear, hear!"

"Have you thought about asking one of the veterans?" asked Hermione.

"From your year, you mean? I have thought about it, Harry especially, but you're all still training."

"Do you want a competent teacher or a qualified one? Because I think Draco would be brilliant."

"Preposterous," grumbled Severus. "He never once won a duel."

"Because you always paired him against Harry!" gasped Hermione.

"Yes. Good times," he grinned and earned himself a slap on the arm.

"To good times, great memories and best friends," called Filius and they all drank.

"Actually, I agree with Hermione," started Longbottom. Severus snapped his head around and narrowed his eyes. "I-I do p-p-professor. He's um- he has apologised. To everyone. In person. That took guts. I always thought he was a cowardly ferret for running, but I understand now."

"And I recall him being actively involved in the rounding up of rogue death eaters, was he not? Quite admirable, considering his own father was one of them," spoke the head of Ravenclaw.

"Are you all away with the fairies? He led death eaters into the castle!"

"It wouldn't be the first time Hogwarts took in a lost sheep," argued Minerva now.

"I need more booze for this," whined Hooch and poured top-ups for everyone.

"To new beginnings and happy endings," said Hermione and slurped the drink. She no longer winced at the taste. She was met with a murmur of agreement.

"Oh very well. It seems it is a done deal. I shall write to my godson when the time comes," he grumbled ,"but when he inevitably cocks up, I will be right there with a big I told you so."

"Perhaps you could write to him now and he could work with Mr. Westerveldt as an assistant. Then come September, if there is no improvement, it'll be an easy transition."

"Minerva, that is... so Slytherin!" gasped Hermione.

"That may be but it is necessary. I have a school to run and it's like herding cats. I will do what it takes."

"Not easy, is it," smirked Severus.

"It is not," she conceded.

"To peace and plenty. May the best days of our past be the worst days of our futures!" called Filius.

Another murmur of approval and again the Quidditch coach refilled the glasses.

"Can we abandon the business talk now?" she asked and raised her glass. "To panties! Not the best thing in the world, but damn close to it!" she sniggered and they laughed in response. The whiskey was starting to kick in.

"Although to be honest, I can't remember the last kiss I've snatched. Or vice versa."

This saw liquor spurting out of Hermione's nose.

"Oh, Hermione, love. You're adorable," cackled Hooch and thrust a napkin at the girl.

"I thought Ron and Harry were crass!" she sputtered as she blotted her face with the serviette.

"Ah, yes. Harry and Ron, the dynamic duo. Brilliant on a broom, even better at quidditch. But apparently Ronnikins was not so satisfactory to you, Hermione? I have always wondered... what went wrong?" Ah, Hooch was in her element now. But to be fair, his interest had been peaked as well.

"Oh. Where do I start? I guess we were... counted upon? Ron and I getting together was wat everyone wanted. And that's why it never worked. Everyone rooted for us and there were so many expectations. Perhaps if the circumstances had been different... but no. We were the good that came out of the war, the story to give people hope. We were an ideal we could never live up to. We soon realised we were not the people others built us up to be. It was sad, but we got through it. We're alright now. Friends, as we should be."

"Too much pressure on people so fragile," mused Filius sagely.

"To love. May its wings continue to soar, in spite of feathers lost," smiled a gracious Minerva.

"To love!"

"I thought you were going to say he was rubbish in the sack," pouted Madam Hooch.

"I don't kiss and tell," laughed Hermione. He would ask later. He had to.

"Good, I don't want to know. Half of the guys you've dated are my mates," complained Longbottom as he distributed the last of the scotch in the tumblers.

"Dating eh? Spill!" Hooch demanded.

"Oh, I've um- I've stopped. My last one was a complete and utter disaster."

"Men eh? Don't know a good thing when it's staring them in the face. Well, this one's to the men who have loved you terribly, may they soon improve. If not, there's always the Sapphic option," roared Hooch and emptied her tumbler.

"If I ever feel so inclined, you'll be the first to know, Rolanda," she grinned at the flying instructor. Hermione raised her glass to her lips and winked at him. Madam Hooch wrapped an arm around the young Arithmancy apprentice and chortled loudly.

It was the booze. It was the randy twinkle in Hooch's eye. It was Hermione's acceptance of the shameless flirting. He felt possessive, jealous even. She was his and his alone.

"That's quite enough of that," he grumbled, got up and was in front of Hermione in two strides. He pulled her to her feet and ransacked her mouth harshly.

Longbottom spit out his drink, Filius froze, Hooch's eyes almost popped out of their sockets and Minerva just smiled that affable smile.

"Blimey," exclaimed Hooch and the charms professor next to her rubbed his head.

"Am I that drunk?" murmured Longbottom.

"Get your own witch," Severus snarled to Hooch, then pulled Hermione out of the staffroom with him to lay further claim to her in his bed."


	38. Chapter 38: Thursday morning

AN: Fair warning: I'm leaving the house in a few hours for a new year's party and I shan't be back until Wednesday night, so the next update could be a little while. However, I hope this tides you over. It's shorter but it's all dialogue and Hermione on a crazy ranting rampage.

**Chapter 38: Thursday morning**

When he woke he felt overcome by pure undiluted guilt. He was a bastard. Why had he done that?

"Hey," she breathed in his ear.

"Morning."

"So... um... what happened last night?"

"I was a prat. I'll floo everyone and tell them to keep their mouths shut."

"Is that what you want?"

"Isn't that what you want?"

"No. Severus, we can't go on like this."

"I see."

Please make it quick, he begged. Rip off the band-aid and go. He deserved it, whatever she was going to throw at him he deserved, but still he hoped she'd spare him.

"That kiss last night was... That's not fair. You should've talked to me first."

"I know."

Just leave, Hermione. Leave so I can break down in private.

"I don't mind. I don't. The world can know as far as I'm concerned. Of course I'm yours. Forever if you'll have me. But I have no fucking idea what you want because you keep it all in and it's too difficult, Severus. What do you want? Are we just shagging? I need to know where I stand."

She wanted him. Forever. She wasn't dumping him.

"I can't make heads or tails of you. You do these sweet and wonderful things but then you push me away. We can't just shag each other's brains out and never talk. I don't know whether I'm coming or going with you and it's killing me!"

Sweet and wonderful. Snarky and sexy and sweet and wonderful.

"Talk to me, Severus! This is ridiculous! I don't want to ruin this, this amazing thing that's happening, by saying something you don't want to hear. By saying something that will make you turn away from me. Tell me where the mark is, so I don't overstep it. So I know what's coming? Please. I love you but- you're driving me mad."

"Oh."

"Oh? Bloody hell... That's all you have to say? Oh? FUCKING OH? I love you, you bastard and all you can say is oh? You heartless sodding-"

"I love you too, you histrionic bint."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Say it again."

"I love you."

"I am so angry with you right now!"

"Yes. But you love me."

"I do. Say it again."

"I love you."

"Oh."

"Is that all you have to say?"

"Yes."

"We need to talk."

"Yes."

"Are you really speechless?"

"Yes."

"I should've told you days ago."

She slapped his shoulder and he pulled her close. He could not stop laughing.


	39. Chapter 39: Thursday afternoon

AN: Another quick one, but there will be another chapter up tonight and after that it will be the Burrow. I know you're all excited for that.

**Chapter 39: Thursday afternoon**

"Could I use your floo to tell Molly I'm bringing my new boyfriend tomorrow?"

"Boyfriend? Circe, Hermione..." he groaned.

"You don't like being my boyfriend?" she teased.

"I like being it, I despise the word."

"Fine. Lover?"

"Ugh. Very debauched."

"Paramour?"

"Sounds like I have 4 other witches and 17 illegitimate children."

"Flame?"

"Ick."

"Beau?"

"Yes, because that won't make me feel like an old lecher," he grumbled.

"Bloke?"

"Too Ronald Weasley and given your history with him, no thank you."

"Sweetheart?"

"Are you suicidal, Hermione?"

"Adonis?" she giggled.

"Very believable," he rolled his eyes.

"Well, I think so."

"Next!" he demanded.

"Significant other?"

"Non-denominative and therefore very suggestive. Hooch would love it."

"Ok, no then. Well, I'm clean out of ideas. You're my boyfriend, get to grips with it."

"I don't like it."

"Tough titties, Severus."

"I prefer them soft and squishy."

"You have a filthy mind, love."

"Use that."

"Love? Really?"

"You might as well."

"Hi, Molly I'm bringing a love? That sounds absurd and it's a grammatical shambles."

"Can't you just say you're bringing me?"

"And ruin the surprise? Never!"

"Say you're bringing someone you're seeing."

"Oh. Yes, that works. Can I use your floo then?"

"How is it you don't have your own floo?"

"I don't know, Severus. I guess we can't all live in opulence with a front room and a study."

"Is that a whiff of jealousy I detect?"

She just gave him an impertinent glare.

"Yes, you _may_ use my floo, Hermione," he emphasised as he had done many times before in class. Correct use of the auxiliary verbs was one of his pet peeves.

"Oh, you _are_ a prat!" she whined and he raised an eyebrow challengingly.

"But I love you anyway," she laughed.


	40. Chapter 40: Thursday evening

**Chapter 40: Thursday evening**

She was working on her calculations and he was watching her from behind a book he had stopped reading several minutes ago. He found himself enthralled with the way she kept fussing with her quill, brushing it over her nose and across her cheek, the way her lip was pulled between her teeth time and time again and the deep furrows of her brow as she concentrated.

"Right, I'm calling it a day," she exclaimed with a deep sigh as she put the quill down.

"I'm going to the Christmas feast," she stated.

"Oh, yes, of course you are. Let's go then."

He put his book on the end table next to him and rose to his feet.

"You're coming with me?"

"I could stay here and do what I usually do, if you prefer?"

"Get drunk?"

"Yes, I think we established that that is in fact my regular routine to deal with days like these."

"Do you want to get drunk, Severus?"

"No, I want to have dinner with you, but I have no intention of begging for the privilege, witch."

"Oh, well, when you put it that way, take me to dinner, wizard."

He rolled his eyes but held his arm out for her to which she called him an old-fashioned Casanova, but she accepted it nonetheless. They chatted as they walked to the Great Hall.

"I'll still call you professor Snape with the students, don't worry. We mustn't do any more damage to your precious reputation. People might not be afraid of you anymore."

"Please do. And maybe don't slap me in the Great Hall. That'd be a great help too."

She giggled and her lip was once again sucked between her teeth.

"I won't if you behave. No more fidgeting under the table."

"But fidgeting in the bedroom is fine?"

She quirked an eyebrow at him with a mischievous smirk on her lips and he laughed. Already he was rubbing off on her, it seemed.

The students that had decided to remain in the castle, had taken seats on one end of the feast dais, the teachers were on the other. Hermione and Neville quickly took it upon themselves to separate the staff from the students, an arrangement everyone appreciated.

"So," said Madam Hooch, "have you two set a date yet?"

"Monday next," answered Hermione dryly. The table fell silent.

"Don't be ridiculous," she then laughed. "Yes, professor Snape and I are involved, but no, I don't think it's any of your business. Think of it what you will but please do not badger us with your conjecture, hearsay or meddling. I would appreciate it very much if we could just have this lovely Christmas roast and not be roasted over our private lives. OK? Super. Now let's eat."

She'd said it so coolly, so matter-of-factly that it took several minutes for her tablemates to recover. Hermione herself had filled her plate and was happily munching on a corn-on-the-cob while everyone else gathered their thoughts.

"Hermione, are you serious?" asked Longbottom looking awfully confused. He usually looked confused though, so really, nothing was odd about that.

"Very. Eat, Neville. And tell me about that plant you're tending to over the holiday?"

Severus felt immensely proud. He could've made a speech that would've shut them all up, but Hermione had been very effective in her own straightforward way, giving them answers and putting a stop to what could've become an embarrassing game of Q&A.

The cat was out of the bag now, they had gone public, and it was fine. It was right and he'd never felt happier. That wonderful, wicked witch was his and he intended to keep her for as long as she allowed it.


	41. Chapter 41: Friday noon

AN: Whoop, that took a while. Been a bit preoccupied with bits and bobs here and there, so I never got a proper sitdown to actually focus on writing. But here it is. We're at the Burrow.

**Chapter 41: Friday noon**

They had apparated to Ottery St. Catchpole, made the walk up to the restored Burrow and now stood outside the door. He was holding the presents she'd bought. He had bought none himself and that was the reason they were late. Upon seeing her pile of gifts, he had insisted on at least getting Molly and Arthur something. He had first apparated back to Spinner's end to retrieve a bottle of 1985 Chateau Margaux Pavillon Rouge. It wasn't the most expensive wine in his cellar nor the most impressive, but it was a good vintage that would be ready to be drunk and he thought Arthur would appreciate it. Hermione had complained that she was never late to anything and he was ruining _her_ reputation now and would he please just get on with it. He'd ignored her and gone down to the archives and searched the files for the school photos of all the Weasley children, taken after the sorting ceremony. He had charmed them into a frame for Molly with a bit of foolish wand waving. As he reflected on the presents, excited voices rose from inside the house.

"I'm telling you, Ron, I don't know who it is!" That was Potter's voice.

"She's never brought anyone before, so you just know this is big." Molly, he registered.

"Neville, you see her every day. Did she say anything to you?" asked Charlie Weasley.

"Erm. Well. Ah- it's- y'see- it's not up to me to say, really."

"NEVILLE! YOU KNOW SOMETHING! SPILL!"

"Not our place, Neville," confirmed Minerva which earned her a similar set of outraged cries.

Minerva was there too? It appeared that once again she hadn't breathed a word of what was going on and he could not help but feel a reverent respect for the Transfiguration mistress for protecting their privacy with such quiet determination. Actually, her presence at the Burrow might be rather agreeable. It meant that at least one person wouldn't call him a disgusting pervert for having his mitts on Hermione.

"Oh dear," Hermione murmured, "they sound agitated."

"Are we really doing this?" he asked her with obvious apprehension.

"Yep. I have two headache potions with me."

"I have four," he said, "but will it be enough?" His brow held deep frown wrinkles and his lips were narrowed tightly.

"You're not backing out now, love," she chuckled.

"Hrm. It's tempting though," he admitted. She laughed and patted his shoulder. Then she opened the door and stepped into the hustle that was the Weasley base camp.

"Happy Christmas, everyone! Sorry we're late," she greeted the welcoming committee. It comprised of the complete Weasley confusion -including the ones that had married into the clan- plus Potter, Longbottom, the Lovegood girl and his employer. He was in hell.

"Just put the presents over there, love, under the tree" she instructed Severus.

His head snapped towards her and he gasped, an action that was mirrored by the Weasley troupe.

"Oh my god," Ginevra wheezed.

"Did she just say-?" gasped George.

"Bloody hell!" Ronald breathed.

"This is my boyfriend, Severus Snape. But I believe you've met?" said Hermione calmly and he felt the colour rise in his cheeks. He wasn't aware that he could blush. He certainly never had before but now he was convinced he'd turned an embarrassing shade of pink.

He expected the Burrow to explode with a roar of noise. Screaming, shouting, gagging, choking, yelping, screeching, whining, howling. Anything really. The shocked silence that materialised in its stead was no less deafening.

It was Minerva's chuckle that broke the sickening absence of sound.

"Ah, Hermione, my dear. If only you were still my student, I would've awarded you a hundred points for that magnificent display of unabashed Gryffindor courage."


	42. Chapter 42: Friday noon (part 2)

AN: Some people are surprisingly reasonable, others go expectedly berserk. And Severus is very, very uncomfortable indeed.

**Chapter 42: Friday noon (part 2)**

The room stayed eerily quiet but Severus swore he could hear Ronald Weasley's nostrils flare as he glared at Severus. He had turned a deep pink, all the way from the tips of his ears to his collar.

"Kitchen. Talk. Now. You. Come," he rambled breathlessly, grabbed Hermione's wrist with forceful insistence and pulled her into the aforementioned room. As an afterthought he added "Harry!" and the boy-who-lived-every-time hastened after them.

"Good lord, Severus," mused Arthur Weasley at last but didn't complete his thought as he was interrupted by his youngest son bellowing from the kitchen.

"MERLIN'S BEARD! DON'T CALL HIM YOUR BOYFRIEND, THAT'S FUCKING GROSS!"

"So it's true then?" asked Molly Weasley, a concerned frown residing on her forehead.

"I'll have you know I don't approve of that particular endearment, but yes, we are- um- ... together," he authenticated.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR BALLY MIND, WOMAN? SNAPE? OF ALL PEOPLE IT HAD TO BE THAT GREASY GIT?" came another yelp from the kitchen.

"Talk of the school, they've been," spoke Minerva. He shot her an angry glare but to no avail.

"The Slytherins are so very proud that their head snake wooed the Gryffindor princess. The female half of the student body think it is the most romantic love story since Romeo and Juliet and there's been _swooning_, I believe. The boys are this close to high-fiving him. It has absolutely devastated his dour persona. I understand the turn of phrase is _gone soft_, isn't it, Severus?"

George had clearly gotten over his initial shock and was rolling over the floor in peals of laughter.

"Let's play the quiet game, shall we, Minerva? You're not helping," Severus groaned softly.

"ZIP IT, HARRY! THAT'S DISGUSTING! YOU HAVEN'T SHAGGED HIM, HAVE YOU, 'MIONE? OH BLOODY HELL! YOU HAVE AS WELL! MENTAL IMAGE! I NEED TO GAUGE MY INNER EYE OUT!"

Now everyone was sniggering while Molly insisted on covering Ginevra's ears with her hands. Judging from the girls' squeaks and giggles, it wasn't making any difference whatsoever. He also knew that the Weasley girl was nowhere near as innocent as Mrs. Weasley liked to believe. While she was at Hogwarts, he was forever catching her out after curfew, draped around some boy. Corner, Thomas, once McLaggen. And of course, there was Potter himself. Dear lord, he needed to gauge out his inner eye too. It was now impossible to ignore the blazing row in the kitchen and the laughter had ceased.

"BULLSHIT! YOU HONESTLY BELIEVE THAT? THINK, YOU NINNY. SNAPE HASN'T LOVED SINCE- DON'T YOU GIVE ME THAT LOOK,HARRY! YOU KNOW IT'S TRUE! HE DOESN'T GIVE TWO SHITS ABOUT YOU! DID YOU FORGET HOW NASTY HE WAS TO YOU, TO ALL OF US?"

"DID YOU FORGET WHAT HE DID FOR US? DID YOU FORGET HOW MANY TIMES HE SAVED OUR ARSES? DID YOU FORGET _WHY_ HE WAS SO NASTY? DO YOU REALLY THINK SOMEONE WHO DOESN'T CARE COULD DO WHAT HE DID?" Hermione screamed back.

Potter said something but he couldn't make out what it was.

"OH, I SEE HOW IT IS! WE'VE ALL JOINED THE SNAPE FAN CLUB? FINE! DON'T YOU COME CRYING TO ME WHEN HE FUCKING BREAKS YOUR HEART, HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER! WHEN! NOT IF!"

Ron stormed out of the kitchen, stomped up the stairs and slammed a door shut.

"Merry Christmas," mused Molly Weasley, now frowning even deeper. Potter appeared in the doorway and cleared his throat.

"Professor? I think you had better come through. I can't- she's- Oh, just come."

He raced into the kitchen and found her sat on the floor, hugging her knees and blubbering loudly.

"Hermione?" he probed uncertainly.

"This was a bad idea," she rasped through the sobs. Gods, what the hell was he supposed to do? He was rubbish at providing comfort. He rubbed his hands together uneasily.

"Hug her!" mouthed Potter authoritatively when he saw his hesitation. So he did. He kneeled down on the floor next to her and wrapped his arms around the shuddering girl.

"Rock!" instructed Potter silently, and he rocked her back and forth. It seemed to be working, somewhat. His hand snaked into her hair and stroked it slowly. There was a first for everything, and he found himself whispering to her: "There there."


	43. Chapter 43: Friday noon (part 3)

AN: Gosh, I love that I have reviewers that have been with me from the very start of this story. That's just so incredibly flattering... Wow. Here's the next installment. Oh, and there'll be a part 4 as well. The Burrow deserves extensive scrutiny. I love the Weasleys. Also, Ron's not a complete prat, I couldn't do that to won-won!

**Chapter 43: Friday noon (part 3)**

"We shouldn't have sprung it on them like that," croaked Hermione when she'd stopped crying. An _I told you so_ lay on the tip of his tongue but he bit it back and instead opted to kiss her. She sighed in frustration at his gentle ministrations and grumbled against his lips to "Kiss me properly, Severus." He pulled away and gestured his head towards Potter who hadn't left but was watching them quite closely, scratching his head as if wondering what to make of them. When he realised he was being observed, the shaggy-haired boy smiled hesitantly.

"Gods, I must look like a raccoon," whispered Hermione as she smoothed her hair with her hands.

"You look fine, pet."

"Please. You didn't even notice the Sleekeazy disaster until I pointed it out to you! And it's best if I don't mention the teeth incident either. So forgive me if I don't take your word for it." She glanced from Potter to himself and back.

"Please don't kill each other while I'm gone." She slipped out of the kitchen, he assumed in search of a mirror to check her face. He supposed the makeup had smeared a fair bit but it hardly mattered to him. She looked beautiful still.

"Teeth incident..." he pondered aloud. He had no idea what she had been talking about.

"Ah. I can explain. Our fourth year. There was a bit of a... kerfuffle. A few hexes back and forth. Draco... He hit Hermione's teeth with _Densaugeo_. She was already very sensitive of them, sir," clarified Potter. "Of course Madam Pomfrey fixed them properly after that."

"Is that so? I don't even remember. I trust I gave you detention for the brawling?" he asked. Potter wasn't half as obnoxious as he remembered him to be. In fact, he was quite pleasant. Friendly even. As such, he found himself drawn into a conversation with the sod.

"Yes, of course. And you took fifty points too. But- you-you told Hermione you saw no difference."

"I did? Shite," he swore. He really didn't remember that at all. But it certainly sounded like him.

"She was 15 at the time, sir. Judging by that kiss just then... I'd say she's over it," laughed Potter.

"Not if she's still bringing it up, she's not. How am I going to make that up to her?"

"If you would like my advice; flowers may be appropriate, but really, I don't think there's any need."

"Hrm. Surprisingly little shouting on your part earlier, Potter," sneered Severus. "You don't object?"

"No point, is there, sir? I know Hermione, she's rather stubborn. And well... I guess I've learned to trust her judgement. I also can't deny that you've saved my life several times over. I do wish you would let me thank you for-"

"Oh, don't get sentimental, Potter, it's quite repulsive."

He recalled his first day back at Hogwarts after the war. By that time he'd been declared a war hero and awarded an order of Merlin, first class. Students had tried to hug him but he'd had none of it. One by one he'd pushed them away, verbally crushed them and revelled in taking over 300 house points for inappropriate behaviour. On day 2 there had been no more attempted hugs.

"Right. Sorry, sir. I must tell you though, if you hurt Hermione, I will-" started Potter.

"You will indeed?" Severus challenged, utterly unimpressed.

"Should I remind you that I killed Voldemort?" Potter huffed indignantly.

"You're not the only one who survived the Dark Lord's conniption," drawled Severus silkily.

"Touché, professor, touché," smirked the young man.

"Ah, you might as well call me Severus, Potter," he suggested and immediately wondered what had possessed him to extend that offer to the boy-who-would-always-remind-him-of-her.

"Only if you call me Harry," he smiled brightly. "I should go check on Ron. He's probably blasted his room to smithereens so hopefully he's a bit less tense now. You know, he doesn't mean it. He's just very... protective of her. Give him time to see the two of you interact, I have a sneaky suspicion he might come round. Anyway, nice talking to you, sir. Severus," he corrected.

"Treat her well, or else!" he repeated his empty threat and Severus nodded.

"I intend to, Harry, I intend to."


	44. Chapter 44: Friday noon (part 4)

AN: I hope I managed to convey the madness and hustle and bustle that is the Burrow in this chapter. Not sure I managed though.

**Chapter 44: Friday noon (part 4)**

Molly Weasley padded into the kitchen, walked straight past him and opened the oven to check on the turkey. She hummed with clear satisfaction before she levitated the bird onto the counter.

"Are you going to just loom in the corner or will you make yourself useful, Severus?" she spoke.

"How can I be of assistance?" he asked, duly chastised.

"The gravy, dear. Check on the gravy. Make sure all the lumps are gone."

He picked up a wooden spoon and started stirring. Hermione walked into the room, her face looking pink and blotchy from scrubbing it. She was almost immediately tasked with mashing the potatoes.

"Where's Harry?" she asked Severus. "What are you doing?"

"Apparently the best use for a respected potions master is to make him stir the gravy," he grumbled but kept a close eye on the brown gloop. The truth was that he was more than grateful for the blasé manner the Weasley matriarch had taken with him, treating him exactly like everyone else there. He almost felt like he... belonged. "As for Harry, I hid the body, naturally."

Her chortles filled and warmed the room and saw a smile flash across Molly's face as well.

"You called him Harry," said Hermione with a very happy smile plastered on her face.

"You must be hallucinating, pet. I would never do such a ridiculous thing."

"Of course you wouldn't. What was I thinking?" she laughed and planted a kiss onto his cheek.

"Not in my kitchen!" chided Molly but her voice held no anger whatsoever.

"SOMEONE COME AND GET THIS FOOD!" she then shouted.

Fleur, William, Charles, Ginevra and George promptly appeared and while the former four soon scampered off again with various trays and plates, the latter glanced over Severus's shoulder.

"That looks a bit lumpy," George commented on the gravy and earned himself a death glare from Severus and a clip upside his head from his mother. He rubbed the sore spot but sniggered.

"Ron's downstairs again," stated Harry as he joined them. "He's not happy but he's hungry."

"Unbelievable!" Hermione huffed but Harry just shrugged.

"You know what he's like with food. Don't worry about it, 'Mione. It'll be fine. He's just concerned," Harry tried to reassure Hermione.

"If that's how he shows his concern, he can fuck right off," she snapped. "Don't you even think about it, Severus!" she added as he had just opened his mouth to comment on her language.

He grunted sorely but held his tongue and Potter snorted. George made the sound of a whip cracking and dipped a finger in the cranberry sauce, laughing heartily.

"Less grunting, more stirring, love," castigated Hermione.

George sputtered and snorted once again.

"That's what she said!" Again he was smacked on the back of the head by his mother and he quickly left with the turkey.

"Don't be boorish, George!" reprimanded Mrs. Weasley after him. "If you would just bring everything out to the table, Harry dear, then we can eat," came Molly's reply. "The gravy looks about right. Pop it into the sauce boat, will you, Severus?" She hurried out with a dish of roast vegetables.

"Get a move on, you lot! We're hungry!" Ginevra popped her head round through the door. "Is that the stuffing? Gods, smells good," she commented, picked up the bowl and left again.

"You bring the mash, 'Mione. Would you mind grabbing the cranberry sauce and the gravy, Severus? I'll carry the sprouts and... that's the lot, I think," coordinated Harry. "Coming, Ginny! Don't start without us! Dibs on the wishbone!"

"Despot," muttered Severus. "Is that what happens when you spend a few months living in close quarters with you? In that case, might I reconsider this... boyfriend business?"

"It's a moot point, Severus. You're already rather tyrannical. If your students' opinions are anything to go by, I'm making you nicer, not meaner," she laughed.

"Hrm. Come on, witch. Your friends are hungry," he ushered her out of the kitchen.


	45. Chapter 45: Friday afternoon

AN: Whooptidoo, another chappie. It's the middle of the night so I must be off to bed. Any tweaking will be done in the morning, I'm afraid.

Oh, and I'm off to visit my in-laws from Thursday to Tuesday. I'm taking my laptop but I may not have time/be in the right state of mind for writing. You may have to bear with me until I get back.

**Chapter 45: Friday afternoon**

"Zat was deelicious, Molly, but far too much" Fleur said politely.

"Absolutely lovely," agreed Minerva, "you've outdone yourself, Molly."

"I'm stuffed," groaned Bill. "Can't eat another bite," Percy joined in.

"I don't think I've ever eaten so much in my life," smiled Luna Lovegood.

Ron hadn't said a word during the entire meal. He'd done plenty of angry glaring at Hermione and Severus though. If looks could kill, he considered but despite the visual daggers, he'd greatly enjoyed the dinner. He'd listened to everyone else bantering, and when they took a shot at him, he'd been his usual quick-witted silver-tongued self, but without adding any real venom to the jibes.

"Presents!" shouted George. "Clear the table first," ordered Molly.

All Weasleys leapt to their feet and like a well-oiled machine had the table emptied and wiped down within minutes.

"Alright, presents," Arthur conceded and turned his wand. The presents flew out from under the tree and formed neat little piles on the table. A plain white envelope landed in front of Severus. He hadn't expected anything and Hermione's smile confirmed his suspicions. Hers.

"Are we taking turns or-" started Longbottom but Bill rolled his eyes. "Like hell we are! Dig in!"

There was the distinct rustling of gifts being opened and bits of ribbon and scraps of paper flew everywhere. Severus calmly tore into the envelope and pulled out a single small sheet of parchment.

"May it make all your future Christmases tolerable," said the note. And underneath that was a spell and a wand diagram. He nudged Hermione with his elbow to get her attention.

"What's this?" he asked her, pointing at the spell.

"What I used on the candles on my tree."

"Oh," he said. "Why did you give me that?"

"It's in the note."

"I know that. But I have no need for it."

"The tree in the dungeons was a one-off," she nodded.

"No, I like the tree. And all the other crap too. There, I said it. Wipe that smug look off of your face, Hermione. I don't need your spell because I intend to keep the expert on tolerable trees around to ensure that mine are up to par every year."

"Every year?" she repeated breathlessly, her eyes wide as saucers.

"Until you tire of me."

"Never," she smiled, "so you're quite stuck with me."

"Good, " he smiled back.

"Did you just give me a commitment for Christmas?" she asked.

"I might have. Hope you like it because I don't have anything else for you," he said guiltily.

"Best. Present. Ever," she replied solemnly.

"Oh my word..." he heard Molly Weasley say. "Who is this from?"

He looked at the Weasley matron. She held the frame he'd charmed out for everyone to see.

"Oh, that's the school logo. So these must come from- Severus, did you-?" spoke Minerva.

"Hrm. Archives, yes," he said gruffly, not particularly keen on the attention he was getting.

"It's... lovely. So thoughtful! Look, there's Fred! He was beautiful, wasn't he?"

"Handsome bugger," agreed George and he hugged his mother comfortingly.

"D'you know, right after that photo was taken, he gave Dumbledore one of his Every Flavour beans. He got a vomit-flavoured one. Should've seen his face! Should've seen Fred's face!"

"No way!" gasped Ginny. Harry threw his head back as he laughed.

"Way! The old man himself told me. He'd gone off them ever since!"

Molly smiled and ruffled George's hair lovingly.

"We'll find a special spot for this, thank you, Severus," she stated.

Hermione squeezed his leg and smiled proudly. Apparently she was pleased.


	46. Chapter 46: Friday evening

AN: This is the last chapter. I might add an epilogue, but here you go. All's well that ends well.

**Chapter 46: Friday evening**

After the dinner, there had been party games. Minerva had taken that as her cue to leave, declaring herself much too old for such folly. Severus was sorely tempted to follow her lead, but Hermione's eyes sparkling mirthfully and a perfectly timed flashback to her words: "I want to spend Christmas with the people I care about." made him suck it up.

He had quietly observed whilst the others played _two truths and a lie_. While he refused to participate - and when he donned his Sunday scowl, they stopped asking him- he was rather pleased with himself that _he_ never got it wrong, even without using legilimency. Hermione sucked her lip in and winked at him when she spotted the smug smirk that had taken residence on his features.

He smiled at her -a proper smile, not a smirk a sneer or a snarl- and sipped his drink.

When they tired of the game, they started playing charades. It could be worse. Like a soothing mantra he listed things that would outclass Neville Longbottom depicting a Christmas carol. The boy could be singing it. They could all be singing it. They could be making him sing it. They could be having a carolling session with Molly on the piano and everyone else cosily huddled around her, holding hands. Oh sweet Nimue, it could be so much worse.

He was painfully aware that none of the damn redheads got it, despite Longbottom's frantic arm-rolling to show waves. It wasn't _that_ hard. His eyes rolled involuntarily and he slipped, despite his resolve not to get involved.

"I saw three ships," he muttered under his breath.

"YES! THANK YOU!" sighed Longbottom exasperatedly and threw his arms up in relief.

"Your turn, sir!" giggled the airy fairy blonde that was Luna Lovegood.

"Yeah, go on, sir!" prodded Charles.

"Oh please!" chimed Ginevra.

"No, no and again, no. There is a limit to how much of this merriment my morose reformed death eater constitution can take before I feel the need to do a spot of maiming or murdering to compensate, and I believe I've reached it."

Hermione rose and flattened her skirt with a few deliberate brushes of her hand.

"Right. I'll take the morose reformed death eater home then, shall I, before accidents happen?"

There was a chorus of laughter. Hermione hugged her friends and promised to meet with them again soon. She wished Charlie and William a safe trip home and asked Fleur to write, then skipped up to him.

"Come along grumpy, you've done well. No hexes, I'm impressed," she chuckled.

"Snape," came a voice from behind them. Severus' eyebrows shot up in surprise. That was the first thing he'd said to him all day. Hermione looked at him thoughtfully and he gave her a similar expression as Ronald Weasley continued.

"I'm watching you!"

"I wouldn't expect less from you, Mr. Weasley," replied Severus smoothly.

"Right then. Just thought you should know," cawed the ginger and he turned on his heel and backed away. The pair watched him go in stunned silence.

"He's watching you," giggled Hermione finally.

"So he is."

"Are you scared?" she asked.

"Oh, terrified," he drawled smoothly.

"He's going to be fine," she said with a confident smile.

"It would appear so," agreed Severus.

"Home?" asked Hermione.

"Your room or mine?"

"Ours if you'll have me."

"Come on then."


End file.
